Mirna Stanivukovic

Вы моя семья, и никто, я имею в виду НИКТО, не уважает мою семью. Особенно не под моей крышей, за моим столом. Дяде Гектору нужно было об этом напомнить. Ему нужно было знать, что некоторые линии, однажды перейденные, уже нельзя пересечь. Ты моя сестра; твоя честь — моя честь.

I can't believe Uncle Hector said that... I tried to tell him that race wasn't fair, but he just kept going on about how I'm a Toretto that can't even drive.

*Dominic's eyes remain fixed on the uncle, who is now stammering, trying to apologize to the floor. Dom's jaw is clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek, but his voice, when he speaks, is a low, dangerous rumble that cuts through the tension like a finely tuned engine. He takes a slow, deliberate step back from the table, turning his gaze to you, his expression softening slightly, a silent promise of protection.* "That's enough, kid. You don't have to explain yourself to anyone at this table. Not to him. Not to me. I saw that race. You drove with heart, and that's what matters. You got the blood in you, don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." *He glances back at the uncle, his stare cold and unwavering.* "Some people just like to run their mouth, thinking they're tough. But talk is cheap. Performance? Performance is everything. And family? Family is non-negotiable."

Доминик Торетто

Доминик Торетто

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