The O'Conner Code

Chapter 1

The quiet street was a different beast under the cover of night. The low rumble of the truck’s engine echoed softly, masking the calculated power beneath its hood as it rolled down the pavement. Brian O’Conner’s grip on the wheel was steady, his gaze unyielding. The rig he commanded wasn’t just any hauler—it was a beast, a 3-car carrier, and the cargo on it was worth more than a small fortune. A souped-up Nissan Skyline that could outrun the devil, a Hellcat Charger built to intimidate, and—curiously—a nondescript minivan. But in this line of work, appearances were as misleading as a crooked cop.

With a precise maneuver, Brian brought the truck to a halt in front of Toretto's Garage. The hiss of the air brakes cut through the night like a snake’s warning, drawing the eyes of those already gathered outside. The garage was more than just a workshop—it was the heart of a family operation that thrived on loyalty, speed, and a code that ran deeper than blood.

The door swung open, and Brian stepped out, the weight of his pregnant belly evident in the way he moved. Eight months in, and he was still handling business. His stride was slower, his breaths measured, but the resolve in his eyes was sharper than ever. He wasn’t here for small talk or to pay his respects; he was here to strike a deal.

Dom Toretto leaned against the frame of the garage entrance, arms crossed, his eyes cold as he appraised the newcomer. Behind him, the crew—Mia, Letty, Vince, and Leon—stood at the ready, their stances relaxed but alert, like wolves on the prowl. Mia’s keen gaze locked onto Brian first, scanning him for signs of weakness or deception. Letty’s brow furrowed, her instincts immediately sensing something different about this stranger.

Brian halted a few steps away, the gravel crunching beneath his boots. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries; the game he was playing was one of high stakes. He met Dom’s dark eyes head-on.

“You Dom Toretto?” The question came out firm, Brian’s voice carrying the weight of someone who was used to giving orders and having them followed.

Dom’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Depends who’s asking.”

“Name’s Brian,” he replied, his tone steady as a knife’s edge. “I’ve got a job, and I heard you’re the one to make it happen.” He jerked his thumb back at the hauler. “Three cars. A minivan, a Charger, and a Skyline. Each needs your touch.”

The garage seemed to go still as Brian laid it out, the crew exchanging glances. Vince let out a low chuckle, pushing himself off the hood of a car. “We don’t usually deal with minivans, pal,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a half-smirk.

Brian’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone cool. “I’m not here to haggle. I need that van rebuilt from the ground up. It needs to look like nothing, but it has to be bulletproof. Hellcat needs an overhaul, and the Skyline… I want it untouchable.”

Dom’s gaze shifted to the vehicles on the truck, a calculating glint in his eye. He’d been in the game long enough to know when someone was serious, and this stranger wasn’t here to play. “And what’s it to you?” Dom asked, his tone low, almost a growl.

Brian reached into his jacket, pulling out a thick stack of cash, and slapped it into Dom’s hand. “20 grand for the van. 50 each for the Charger and Skyline. That’s just to start. You get it done right, there’s more where that came from.”

The crew’s eyes widened just slightly, but they kept their composure. In this business, flashing cash only meant one thing: someone was desperate or in deep. Letty stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as she looked Brian over. “What’s the rush?” she asked. “You could’ve gone to any shop in town.”

Brian’s lips twitched into a half-smile, a shadow of something almost grim. “I need fast, and I need it done by people who understand there’s more at stake than just winning a race.” His eyes flicked over the crew before returning to Dom. “I’ve got a family to protect.”

The word ‘family’ seemed to resonate with Dom. He pushed off the garage frame, taking a step forward, his gaze hardening. “You don’t trust just anyone with family business,” Dom said quietly. “You’re asking us to work on these like they’re our own. That’s a heavy ask.”

“I’ve got ten weeks,” Brian said, the strain in his voice betraying more than he intended. “I need that van finished first, top priority. It’s for my kid.” He paused, eyes steady, unwavering. “Make it safe. Make it reliable. I don’t care what it costs.”

The garage was silent, the crew absorbing the weight behind Brian’s words. Mia’s expression softened just a touch, understanding dawning in her eyes. Letty, ever the skeptic, crossed her arms and nodded. “Alright,” she said. “But this kind of work doesn’t come cheap or easy. You better be ready to trust us.”

Brian extended his hand toward Dom, who took it with a firm grip. “You get it done right,” Brian said, “and I’ll make sure you’re compensated. But if you screw me over, I’ll take my business—and my cash—elsewhere.”

Dom’s lips curved into a grin, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “We don’t screw over family,” he said, a hint of warning in his tone. “But you better be ready to back up those words.”

Brian nodded, a flicker of relief passing through his eyes. “Just make it happen, Toretto.”

And with that, the garage roared to life, engines revving, tools clanging, and the crew diving into their work with the precision of seasoned operatives. As Brian watched them, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He’d found the right team.

In the world they operated in, trust was a luxury. But for now, Brian was willing to risk it. Because sometimes, it wasn’t about the cars—it was about the people who drove them.