SHADOWLESS LOVE

The sleek, obsidian-black car cut through the heart of the dense forest, its tires slicing through the misty darkness like a predator moving through shadows. The moon hung low, its pale light fragmented by the skeletal branches clawing at the sky. An oppressive stillness weighed on the air, broken only by the steady hum of the engine. Inside, the cabin was silent, save for the sound of my fingers tapping against the cool leather of my seat. My thoughts, however, were anything but still. They churned relentlessly, drawn toward a name that seemed to haunt my very existence—Ivelle Ivanova.

Her presence was an enigma, as if crafted by the gods of mischief themselves. The moonlight played upon her silvery, wavy hair, giving it the luster of frost in midwinter. Her azure eyes, devoid of warmth, glittered with an inscrutable depth, like shards of ice reflecting distant flames. She was hauntingly familiar, a ghost of Erika in every line and gesture, yet entirely alien—a puzzle that defied reason.

Was I nervous? Perhaps. Inviting Ivelle Ivanova into my life felt akin to clutching a venomous serpent, its bite inevitable. Still, what choice did I have? In Helhim, betrayal wasn't a risk; it was a certainty, the very lifeblood of this cursed place.

"She resembles Erika, doesn't she?" Cassian's voice broke through the suffocating silence, his tone sharp with curiosity.

"She does," I replied, my words deliberate, "but she isn't Erika." The statement felt heavier than intended—a truth I needed to believe.

Cassian tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. "How can you be so sure?"

I turned to him, my gaze cold. "Do you really think Erika would remain hidden for ten years if she were alive?"

He sighed, frustration evident. "Fine. But how do you explain Ivelle Ivanova? The resemblance is uncanny—those silver locks, those piercing blue eyes. And after interrogating that greedy pig, I'm certain her identity is a fabrication."

His words carried weight, even if delivered with his usual flippancy. Cassian was no fool. Beneath his reputation as a careless gossip lay a keen mind and an instinct for survival.

"She's a wildcard," he continued, his tone darker now. "And wildcards are dangerous."

I exhaled slowly, my thoughts shifting to the labyrinthine politics of Helhim. "She wants to be Queen," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Alexander holds the crown now, but no leash exists to bind him. His love is fleeting, and his wrath is fatal."

Cassian leaned forward, his expression intent. "But you… Valentino wields power, wealth, and influence. Yet you lack the neutral faction's support. That's where she comes in, doesn't it?"

I nodded, my mind drifting to the history that defined this treacherous underworld.

---

The Massacre Era.

The very name was a wound carved into Helhim's past, a scar that still ached in the memories of its people. One hundred eighty years ago, the world was a battlefield. Gangs clashed in reckless wars, families vied for dominance, and the streets were awash with blood. The thirst for power drove every decision, every betrayal.

At the heart of this chaos was the insatiable hunger for weapons. Factories churned out arms at an unprecedented rate, their forges fueled by greed and desperation. Every family had become its own arsenal, a kingdom of steel and fire. But with every sword crafted, every bullet cast, Helhim inched closer to oblivion.

For two decades, the streets ran red. Over 800,000 lives were lost to the chaos, their deaths feeding the insatiable void of ambition. And yet, despite their efforts, no family could claim victory. The House of Saints, the ruling power, clung to the Mafia King's throne, their position bolstered by the unwavering loyalty of the House of Valentino.

It was only when the fires of war threatened to consume Helhim entirely that a fragile truce emerged. The most prominent families, weary of the endless bloodshed, proposed the creation of a Neutral Faction—a coalition of four families chosen for their relative neutrality during the Massacre Era. These families would oversee the production and distribution of weapons, their role ensuring balance in a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

The House of Ivanova and the House of Raphael were among these four. While the other twelve families abandoned arms manufacturing, these four neutral houses became the gatekeepers of power. Their allegiance—or lack thereof—held the potential to tip the scales in any conflict.

---

"Ten years ago," I said, my voice heavy with regret, "I underestimated the Neutral Faction. Alexander didn't. He secured two of the four families, turning them into allies of the House of Saints. That left the Ivanovas and the Raphaels."

Cassian nodded, his expression grim. "And both remained silent wolves, didn't they? Neither a threat nor an ally. But now…"

"Now, Ivelle Ivanova steps forward," I said, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. "She knows her family's worth. Aligning with her would give me control over forty percent of the world's weapon production. Without her, I would have to turn to the Raphaels—a far more impossible task."

Cassian frowned. "Because of your grandfather."

I nodded. "He blames my father for ruining his family and destroying his daughter. My mother ran from us when I was six, claiming my father's love suffocated her. She abandoned me, and he became a rake, consumed by his rage and heartbreak. My grandfather hasn't forgiven him—or me."

"Which leaves you with no choice but to turn to Ivelle," Cassian said, his voice low.

"She's dangerous," I admitted, fingering the sapphire pendant around my neck. "She has secrets—ties to the Ghost Fleet and ambitions that rival my own. But if she's going to use me, it's only fair I use her."

Cassian sighed, leaning back against his seat. The usual mirth in his eyes was replaced by a rare sincerity. "What if she's a bane, not a remedy?"

"She probably is," I said with a wry smile. "But even a bane can be useful in the right hands."

Cassian didn't argue, his slow breaths the only sound in the cabin as we continued our journey. The air was thick with unspoken words, the weight of Helhim's past and future pressing down on us both.

Through it all, one truth remained: Ivelle Ivanova was a gamble I couldn't afford to lose. And until the end, Cassian would be my constant—a tether to sanity in a world spiraling into madness.