Mr & Mrs Shaw

Prologue

(A/N: Hi and welcome. So, for those that are curious, yes Megan Fox is the face claim and that's her outfit for this chapter up top. Thanks for reading this story and I hope you enjoy it. XxD)

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"They say if you want to glimpse the future, just look behind you. I used to think that was bollocks. Now I realise, you can't outrun the past," said Deckard Shaw to his unconscious younger brother, a machine breathing for him as tubes were stuck in his throat, half his face burned.

As Deckard turned from the window to look at him, a woman sat at his bedside, clutching his limp hand in hers as she brushed his hair back, dainty, yet lethal, fingers trailing gently along the burn marks on his cheek.

The woman had long raven hair, and electric blue eyes, nails painted the colour of blood as she gazed from Owen to Deckard.

The woman was Katrina Shaw.

A Shaw by marriage not by blood, but she'd grown up with them. Owen, Deckard, Hattie and Katrina got up to all kinds of mischief when they were younger, the Shaw's mother, Magdalena, only encouraging their behaviour but not their squabbles.

Katrina had grown up with a single mother who she didn't see very often as she worked multiple jobs to afford their house and food.

They said it was the wrong time and the wrong place.

An accident was what they said.

An accident was what the police had called it when her mother had been shot point-blank over the watch on her wrist that was barely worth ten quid.

It was that accident that caused Magdalena to take her in, to train her vigorously so she could hunt down the man that killed her mother.

And boy had it felt good when she gutted him in an alleyway.

 When she punctured his lung, broke his ribs and arm and then slashed his throat so he could choke on his own blood.

Katrina had always known that she was a bit dark and her mother's death only made her embrace it. It was a good thing too.

Because her indifference towards death and training with Magdalena prepared her for the day Deckard called.

There had always been something between the two. Lingering glances, brushing of skin more than necessary and the deep-seated conversations they would have.

Not to mention the incredible night they'd had together before Deckard left on his deployment into the British Military. The night where they let all the tension between them come to a head and Katrina learned that Deckard Shaw was truly a man of many talents.

But when the military turned on him after they considered him a threat, it was Katrina he called.

The girl herself had become a mercenary, and with her considerable skills and contacts, it was her Deckard called for help after his assassination attempt. Because it would take an assassin to outwit an assassin.

The two had fled together, going from country to country, right under the noses of the governments that wanted Deckard dead.

And during that time together, they became....closer.

So close that Deckard had put quite a shiny diamond ring onto her finger.

Magdalena, Owen and Hattie smuggled themselves into the Maldives where they watched Deckard and Katrina get married on the beach.

That had been five years ago.

And it had been five days ago that they'd gotten the call about Owen's condition, that he'd almost died. And so, they'd returned to London.

They'd returned a few times to visit Magdalena because she almost always refused to leave England and the government had been none the wiser. They'd become very good at being ghosts, but they never dared stay more than a few days.

But as they both looked at Owen's unconscious form they agreed, it was time to stop running. That Dominic Toretto and his team would pay for hurting their little brother.

"When we were kids you'd start fights with the toughest bastards in the yard. But I was the one who had to step in and finish them. Rest now, little brother, while I settle your one last score," Deckard finished as Katrina pressed a soft kiss to Owen's forehead, a small smudge of pink staining his skin.

"We'll see you again Owen," Katrina promised as Deckard offered her his hand and helped her up.

"Take care of our brother," Katrina warned the terrified nurse and doctor that stood huddled together in a corner. "Anything happens to him, we'll come back looking for you," she threatened as she and her husband walked out from the room hand-in-hand.

They strutted down the hallway from Owen's room in the hospital, the hallway that they'd utterly destroyed to get to Owen.

Dead military and SWAT personal lay injured or dead on the floor as the hospital staff scrambled away from the couple, dodging the sparks that fell from the broken lights on the ceiling.

Bullet holes riddled the walls and supply carts and their contents littered the floor, yet Deckard and Katrina were still unscathed.

Katarina was in a strapless black ensemble with matching heels and a large coat, Deckard in his usual suit and polished shoes with a matching coat.

As they made their way to the elevator, Deckard smirked as he watched his wife stop to put her heeled foot into the face of a soldier who'd tried to get back up again, gun held loosely in his hand.

He then held the doors of the elevator open for his wife, wiping down his sunglasses as the elevator moved and they entered the even more destroyed lobby of the hospital, the ceiling half-collapsed, bullets everywhere and half the room on fire.

Katrina then grinned as she picked up a grenade from one of the dead soldiers they'd encountered in the lobby and pulled the pin out with her teeth, her husband's eyes never leaving her actions as she strode up to a soldier who was still standing, a seductive smile on her face.

"Hold this for me would you?" she asked sweetly, batting her lashes at him as she pressed the grenade into his hand before pushing him back into a chair effortlessly.

The man cried out before the grenade exploded, effectively killing him as Katrina smiled in thanks at Deckard who handed her her sunglasses as she looped her arm around his and they headed out to her car that was parked outside.

Deckard slipped on his own sunglasses as he opened the drivers' side door for his wife, both of them stopping to admire the front of the building collapsing before she pressed a quick kiss to his lips as slid into her white Jaguar F-type.

Deckard then slid into the passenger seat as Katrina gunned the engine.

"We got work to do," Deckard said to her as she smiled wickedly at him and shifted the car into gear.

"We certainly do."