Chapter 2: Toretto's Family BBQ

The smell of grilled meat and motor oil lingered in the summer air outside Toretto's Market. A handful of folding chairs, a cooler of Coronas, and the hum of old-school hip-hop set the scene. This wasn't just a barbecue—it was a ritual. A family tradition. And tonight, Saint was officially in the circle.

He pulled up in the Skyline, engine idling before he shut it off with a flick of his wrist. Heads turned. Again. He was getting used to the attention. The silver beast purred like a satisfied animal, drawing eyes from the regulars and outsiders alike.

Dom stood by the grill, tongs in hand, tossing burgers like a pro. Letty was perched on a milk crate nearby, sipping a beer, while Jesse, Vince, and Leon leaned against a table laughing about something Jesse had said.

"Yo," Dom called. "Saint showed."

Saint gave a chin nod and moved toward the group. He didn't come empty-handed—he carried a six-pack of imported beer and handed it to Dom.

"Figured I'd contribute," he said.

Dom smirked. "Appreciated."

Inside the Market, Mia stood at the counter wiping down glasses. Letty glanced from Mia to Saint through the open service window, then raised an eyebrow.

"He's cute," Letty said, teasing.

Mia rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. "Shut up."

"You like him."

"I don't even know him."

"But you want to," Letty grinned. "And Vince sees it."

Outside, Vince's glare followed Saint like a heat-seeking missile.

Vince's breath was hot, his posture rigid with anger as he stepped into Saint's space, practically daring him. "You think just 'cause you beat Dom you can show up and act like you're one of us?"

Saint didn't flinch. His shoulders stayed loose, his expression unreadable—but the stillness in him was unnerving, like a spring loaded and waiting. "You always this welcoming," he said calmly, "or is it just me?"

Vince got in his face. "I don't trust imports—cars or people."

The tension crackled. Vince's jaw clenched as he shoved Saint hard, trying to prove a point.

Saint didn't stumble. He didn't even blink.

"Sure you wanna do this?" Saint asked, his tone light—but his eyes had gone ice cold.

Vince didn't answer. He threw a punch.

Wrong move.

Saint moved like he'd seen it a second before it happened—fluid, precise. He blocked the swing, twisted Vince's arm behind his back with a sharp pivot, and swept his legs in a clean, effortless motion. One second Vince was standing. The next, he was on the ground, coughing dust.

Dom walked over, voice low and firm. "Enough."

Saint stepped back, letting go. "Didn't come here for drama."

Dom nodded. "And you didn't start it."

Vince dusted himself off, glaring daggers. Mia rushed out from the shop, eyes wide.

"Is everyone okay?"

Saint caught her gaze. "All good. Just a misunderstanding."

"Yeah," Vince muttered. "A misunderstanding I'll fix later."

Letty walked by, patting Vince on the shoulder. "Maybe next time don't pick a fight with a dude who moves like he's ex-SAS."

Later, around the fire pit, Jesse plopped down next to Saint with a big grin.

"Dude. That was awesome. You MMA or somethin'?"

Saint smirked. "Nah. Just grew up in places where you learn quick or don't last."

"Man, you gotta help me with my reaction time. On the line, I'm always half a second slow."

"I got you," Saint nodded. "We'll run drills."

Brian O'Conner approached then, handing out beers. "Yo, you're Saint, right? Heard you're quick."

Saint took the bottle but studied him. Something about Brian's smile felt…off. Too easy. Too polished.

"Yeah," Saint said slowly. "That's me."

Brian raised his bottle. "To new friends."

Saint clinked, but the chill in his eyes didn't fade. "We'll see."

From across the yard, Mia watched Saint laugh with Jesse. A small smile tugged at her lips. Letty nudged her side.

"You're already gone."

Mia didn't deny it.

As the fire crackled and the drinks flowed, Saint leaned back and let the warmth of the moment sink in. But behind his eyes, the calm cracked for a moment—flashes of cold rain on cobblestone, red-and-blue lights bouncing off brick walls, the echo of his mother's scream before the silence.

He shook it off.

Not here. Not now.

Jesse was showing him something on his phone—a diagram of a modded engine build. Saint leaned in, intrigued. "That's good work," he said. "Real clean. You think in patterns."

Jesse grinned. "That's the nicest way anyone's called me a nerd."

"Only a fool doesn't respect a mind like that," Saint said. "Where I'm from, brains and bravery keep you alive."

Mia came over, a bottle of water in hand. "Thought you might want this instead."

Saint took it with a nod. "Appreciate it."

Their hands touched for a second longer than necessary. She didn't pull away. Neither did he.

"So," she asked, "where are you from, exactly?"

"London. South end."

"Why LA?"

He hesitated, just for a moment. "Needed a reset."

She nodded slowly. "You running from something?"

He looked at her, eyes dark and steady. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just chasing something better."

Letty called out from behind. "Mia, you helping with dessert or flirting with the mystery man?"

Mia rolled her eyes. "Can't I do both?"

Saint chuckled, a low sound that curled into her chest.

As night deepened, the laughter and clinking bottles faded into music and quiet conversations. Saint stood near the edge of the yard, watching the city lights flicker beyond the trees.

Dom stepped up beside him. "You held your own. That matters."

"I wasn't trying to impress anyone."

"Still did." Dom looked at him. "You got weight on you. I can see it."

Saint didn't deny it. "We all do."

"You ever need to let it go, this crew's got your back—once you earn it."

Saint nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Dom clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the backyard, Saint."

[End of Chapter 2]