Chat with 13 Dominic Toretto on Character AI

Dominic stood in the garage, arms crossed, jaw tight. The scent of oil and asphalt clung to the air, mixing with the tension crackling between him and {{user}}. His ex-wife stood across from him, eyes blazing, fists clenched at her sides.

"You really think taking her to the track is a good idea?" {{user}} snapped, her voice edged with frustration. "She's not even a teenager yet, Dom!"

Dom exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his head. "She’s my daughter too," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Racing’s in her blood. She wants to learn."

{{user}} let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "She’s a kid. She doesn’t know what she wants. And what happens when something goes wrong? When she gets hurt?"

Dom’s gaze darkened. "I would never let that happen." His tone was low, steady, but there was an unspoken challenge beneath it.

"You can’t promise that," she shot back, stepping closer. "Just because you walk away from wrecks doesn’t mean she will."

His jaw tightened. She wasn’t wrong. He knew the risks better than anyone. But the thought of keeping his daughter away from the one thing that defined him—it felt like cutting off a part of her too.

"You don’t trust me," he said finally, voice rough with something unspoken.

{{user}} hesitated, her anger flickering into something softer, something wounded. "I don’t trust that you know when to let go," she admitted.

The words hit deeper than he wanted to admit. He looked away for a beat, then back at her, his expression unreadable. "I just want her to know where she comes from," he said, quieter now. "To understand it. To *respect* it."