The desert wind blasted sand against the jagged cliffs of Devils Elbow.
The road twisted into a sharp series of switchbacks.
One side, sheer rock face.
The other, a bottomless ravine.
A perfect death trap for an ambush.
Dom’s black Charger, Letty’s auxiliary car, and Vince’s old muscle car sat in the shadows like hunting cats.
Engines off.
Only heartbeats and the distant howl of wind through the rocks.
Dom’s eyes locked on the road through his shades.
The plan was simple and brutal: when the truck slowed for the curve, Vince would block it from the front.
Letty would seal the rear.
Dom would hit the cab and grab the most valuable cargo.
“Incoming.” Letty’s voice crackled over the radio, low as sandpaper.
In the distance, a box truck rolled toward them, a moving fortress of steel.
Its shape warped in the heat haze.
Dom took a breath.
His eyes went razor-sharp.
“Get ready.” The truck began to slow, its massive frame easing into the deadly switchback.
“Go!” Vince slammed the gas.
His muscle car roared and fishtailed into the road, blocking the curve dead-center.
Letty’s car slid in behind, sealing any retreat.
Step one: perfect.
Dom’s Charger shot like black lightning, pulling up alongside the cab.
He was out before the car fully stopped, lunging for the driver’s door.
Letty swung her crowbar and moved to cover the passenger side.
Everything went smooth.
Until the gunshot.
“BANG!” The crack split the desert silence like an ice pick.
The driver, a hard-faced middle-aged man, yanked a pistol from under his seat.
He fired without hesitation.
The bullet screamed past Dom’s shoulder and punched a smoking hole in the Charger’s door.
Dom recoiled, fire burning across his shoulder.
His blood went cold.
Armed?
The intel said these drivers carried at most a tire iron.
“Shit!
He’s armed!” Dom shouted into the radio.
Letty dove for cover behind a rock.
Vince was stuck in the open.
“BANG!
BANG!” Two more rounds.
Bullets chewed into the rock at Vince’s feet.
He scrambled behind his car, his pant leg ripped open.
Blood soaked through.
“Vince!
You hit?” Letty’s voice was sharp with panic.
“I’m hit!
Damn it!” Vince screamed, convinced he’d been shot.
The tables had turned.
They were pinned.
The driver had the high ground, a fortified cab, and a gun.
He was already reaching for his radio.
Dom slammed his fist on the wheel, knuckles splitting.
A fatal miscalculation.
The heist was blown.
Vince was bleeding.
If cops or Johnny’s crew showed up, they were dead.
Despair pressed down like the desert heat.
Letty tried to pop out and draw fire.
Another round cracked past her ear.
Then— “ROOOAAAARRR!
ROOOAAAARRR!” Two engines, tearing through the night from the direction they’d come.
Green and white.
Eclipse and 240SX.
Brian and Jake.
Dom’s heart lurched.
How?
But the relief hit harder.
Brian’s Eclipse flew in first.
No brakes.
At the last second, he wrenched the wheel, sliding sideways in a cloud of dust and screaming rubber.
His car locked in on the opposite side of the cab, using its body as a shield for Dom and Vince.
Jake’s 240SX arced in a tighter drift, a white blade carving into position beside Letty, blocking the shooter’s angle.
The chaos froze for a heartbeat.
Then shattered.
“Dom!
You okay?” Brian shouted from behind his door, face tight with urgency.
Jake was already out, scanning the scene in a flash.
Vince down.
Dom pinned.
Armed driver.
He moved to Letty, voice low and sharp.
“Get Vince out of the open.” Dom stared at the two of them.
Brian, who’d just thrown himself into a gunfight.
But there was no time for questions.
“Vince is hit!
Driver’s armed!” Dom barked.
The shooting paused.
The driver was clearly confused by the sudden cavalry.
The desert wind still burned.
But the air at Devils Elbow had shifted.
Redemption had arrived.
Survival, though, was still a bullet away.
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