THE COLOSSEUM

CHAPTER 3: The Colosseum

The Colosseum was a theater built for blood, and the irony was not lost on Dimitri as he walked through its decaying grandeur and felt the weight of history pressing down on him like a physical thing. It was a relic of a forgotten era, an underground theater that had once hosted gladiatorial combat for the city's elite, and now it hosted meetings like this one, bloodless negotiations that were just as brutal as any fight because words could cut deeper than swords when wielded by the right hands.

Dimitri arrived early because he always did, and he wanted to see the room first, to map every exit and every shadow and every potential threat, and his men fanned out behind him like a dark tide, taking positions and securing the perimeter.

The theater was grand in a decaying sort of way, with red velvet seats and a stage that had seen better centuries and chandeliers that dripped with dust and faded elegance. It smelled like mildew and old secrets, the kind of place where deals were made and men were betrayed.

He walked to the center of the room where a long table had been set up, he sat down with his back to the stage and his face to the entrance because he wanted to see them coming, wanted to watch their faces as they walked in and saw him waiting.

He didn't wait long.

The doors swung open, and Nikolai Petrov walked in like he owned the place, Dimitri's breath caught in his throat because he hated that, he hated that after three years and everything that had happened, the man still had that effect on him.

Nikolai was tall, dark and dangerous. He wore a tailored suit that probably cost more than most people's houses, but he wore it like armor. His hair was disheveled in a way that looked deliberate, his smile sharp and knowing, as his eyes found Dimitri immediately like they were drawn by an invisible force.

"Nikolai," Dimitri said, his voice was icy because he needed to stay in control, needed to show nothing but cold indifference.

"Grigori." Nikolai sauntered over, ignoring the guards flanking him, as he sat down across from Dimitri with an easy grace that was infuriating. "You look well, and killing people agrees with you, if I do say so myself."

"Fucking people agrees with you," Dimitri replied, and he kept his voice flat and cutting because he knew how to wound with words as well as weapons. "You look exhausted."

Nikolai laughed. It was a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down Dimitri's spine, as he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his eyes gleaming. "Jealousy is an ugly color on you."

"I'm not jealous. I'm disgusted."

"Same thing, really." Nikolai's smile widened, and he was close enough that Dimitri could smell his cologne, something expensive, dangerous and utterly him. "But we both know you're not disgusted, because you're fascinated, just like I am."

Dimitri said nothing because there was nothing to say. Just then the other families arrived, the Italians, the Irish and a handful of smaller gangs who were eager to see the two titans tear each other apart. They took their seats with their eyes darting between Dimitri and Nikolai like spectators at a tennis match.

The meeting was a farce, and they talked about territories, money and the cost of their war. Dimitri said nothing, Nikolai said nothing, and they stared at each other across the table like they were reading each other's minds.

Then the lights went out.

"DOWN!" Dimitri shouted, and he hit the floor just as the first shots rang out. The darkness was absolute and the chaos was deafening, and he could hear screams, the gunfire and the thunder of boots on the stage above him.

He rolled and drew his weapon, but he couldn't see anything, could only hear the madness, smell the blood and feel the heat of bullets passing inches from his face. He knew he was going to die here if he didn't move.

A hand grabbed his arm, he got tensed immediately and almost fired before he heard the voice.

 "Come with me." Nikolai's voice was urgent and strange, and Dimitri had two options and he chose to live.

He followed Nikolai into the darkness, as they moved through the chaos like ghosts, Dimitri could feel Nikolai's hand on his arm and his heart was pounding because they were enemies and they shouldn't be trusting each other, but they had no choice.

They reached a service tunnel and Nikolai slammed the door behind them, the sounds of the massacre faded into a muffled roar. They were alone and trapped and somewhere in the darkness, something shifted between them.