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The Dragon Racer
21.4 Brynna

21.4 Brynna

Brynna

Brynna took a deep breath and hit the call button. She lifted the phone to her ear. Dangerous though it was, it had to be her own phone. She had to rely on Jesse recognising her number. The other end seemed to ring for a long time before the call clicked through.

"You're not supposed to be calling this number."

"I need to speak to Angelo. Now, Jesse."

"This isn't a good time, Miss Brynna."

"I have an offer to make." She managed to keep her voice steady. Fire surged in the ancient pit of her spine.

The speaker crackled with the static noise of someone rubbing a phone mic on their clothes to prevent an off-line conversation being overheard. Then it stopped, and there were a handful of clunky noises as the handset changed hands.

"Hi Brynna." Just by itself, Angelo’s tone was a threat.

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Brynna set aside the idea of teasing him a bit first. "I'll bet you the blue flame against Tenebrae’s debts and mine."

"For what?" The boy's voice was savage with bitterness. "There won't be a Castelloro family by year's end if this keeps up."

Brynna’s throat caught. Nowhere in her plans and expectations was the idea that the Castelloros might already have lost their little war, but Angelo sounded defeated. "What happened, sweetie?"

"Two of the old men were just bombed. They were visiting each other for dinner. Families and all."

"Oh hell, sweetie, I'm so sorry."

"In all, both wives and four of the kids. This is getting worse." Angelo had been leaden with grief, but now his voice hitched. "These men played cards with dad and uncle Mattia when I was a kid, Brynna. Tammo got in trouble for letting me try his cigar once. What can I do with your flames now?"

Brynna drew a long breath. "You play the game for honour, not commerce. I'm going to invite Don Corvino."

"You're WHAT?" Angelo’s snarl overdrove the phone speaker. "You want me to sit across the table from this man? After what he's done?"

"Tenebrae has no other chance. From the sound of it, neither do you, sweetie. Let's put it all on the table. Soot. Phoebe’s debts and mine. His claim against us both. And the fire of my soul."

"What'll stop him just killing us?"

"We'll just have to gamble that too, sweetie. Old man Angelo would have, and you know it."