I remember the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline the night my father died. I was sixteen, standing in the pit lane, watching Jack Toretto take his final turn. One bump from Linder, a flick of metal on metal—and the car spun, flipped, exploded. I blamed Linder. I beat him half to death. But in prison, I remembered something: Jakob had worked on the car that day. My own brother. When I got out, I made him race me. When he lost, I told him to disappear. Thirty years later, I thought I was done with revenge. Then Mr. Nobody’s plane went down. Cipher was gone. And Jakob’s name was all over the wreckage. Now I’m standing in a London safe house, staring at a photo of my brother holding a weapon. Queenie just told me where he’ll be tonight. I can feel the weight of my father’s watch in my pocket. The same one Jakob gave me after the funeral. I don’t know if I’m here to kill him… or save him.