Kissed by the Enemy

"Hey boss, the job is already done like you asked!" one of the guards said, "How clean was it? " Jacob Moretti asked, "They did a very solid job," the guard responded Jacob Moretti, a very handsome but feared man in the whole country, a 6ft tall darker darker-skinned man. He's married to his wife, Sarah Moretti, a very beautiful lady, and they have twins, Isaac and Isabella Moretti. They lived a life of luxury, a life of running, and most time changed schools, so they decided to be home-schooled. While home-schooled, the parents taught their children the skill of combat because at some point they will have to face challenges to make them have to defend either themselves or their parents. They were taught how to use guns, codes, braille, and so many others. It was an everyday drill Before Jacob Moretti became the leader of the gang, his uncle, Cain Moretti, was as ruthless in words and action; anyone who heard him feared him, but unfortunately died in battle against the rival gang. Jacob Moretti always swore that he was going to take revenge for his uncle and he won't stop until that is done. He knew what was coming, so he trained day and night and doubled security, and stayed on high alert always. ************************************************ It's the 18th birthday of the twins, according to tradition they will have to face the 4 stages of combat; Skill_to learn how to fight In times of attack, Speed_to be able to be swift and manover away from trouble, Smell_to be able to only sense danger, Strategy _a psychological or tactical challenge. "You too will be bestowed the blessings of your ancestors when you perform the 4 stages of combat, you must be able to show skill, feel, smell and emotion. May the spirits of the ancestors be upon you, "the priest said. The whole crowd and the Moretti family came together to watch them display this sacred act " You shall be given an hour for each stage," the priest announced, Cold shivers ran down Isabella's spine "Hey", as Isaac holds her hand " Everything will be alright," he assured "Thanks, twin" Isabella responded Isaac is the Sharp, instinctive, a little reckless but brave, and Isabella is the Calculating, disciplined, stealthy. The time passed, and the crowd erupted in a thunderous clap and appreciation. Their father smiles and claps in a sign of acceptance and pride. After they win, the crowd cheers—but one of the judges (or another mafia heir) challenges their win, or a rival gang attacks, throwing everyone into chaos and revealing this test wasn’t just a trial, it was bait for war. A hidden underground arena. Cold, echoing, filled with mafia leaders, soldiers, and hopeful initiates. The silence in the arena was thick, like smoke before gunfire. Isaac rolled his neck, the crack echoing off the stone walls. Isabella stood beside him, motionless, her eyes locked on the metal gates ahead. This wasn’t just a trial—it was their initiation into the most feared mafia circle in the Western District. Four trials. No second chances. A booming voice rang out. “Step one: Skill. Disarm and disable your opponent. No weapons. No mercy.” From the shadows, two masked fighters stepped into the ring. Isaac smirked. “I'll take the left.” “No,” Isabella murmured, already moving, “you take the right. That one’s left-handed.” She was right. Isaac pivoted just in time to block a left hook aimed at his jaw. They moved like clockwork—each step they took mirrored the other, like two sides of a blade slicing through the fight. Minutes later, the fighters were on the ground, groaning. The crowd roared. “Step two: Smell. Identify the poison. Survive.” A tray of vials was brought forward. Clear liquids. Identical scents—almost. Isabella closed her eyes. Inhaled. “Cyanide. Second from the right.” Isaac looked at her, impressed. “You sure?” She nodded. “Smells like burnt almonds, but fainter.” He chose a different vial and drank. A moment passed. He stood strong. She did too. Another cheer. “Step three: Speed. Run the gauntlet. Thirty seconds. Survive the guns, the blades, the flames.” The gates opened again—this time to a death trap of swinging blades, bullet traps, and fire-lit halls. Isaac ran first, laughing like a madman. Isabella calculated every step, following behind like a shadow. At the final leap, they crossed together. Cheers again—but less this time. Some weren’t happy. “Step four: Strategy. One puzzle. One minute. One enemy.” A wall slid open. Another pair of twins entered—rivals. “Only one pair joins the family,” the announcer growled. “Solve the code. Disarm the bomb. And survive your enemy.” The room was set like a war zone. The clock ticked. Isabella worked the code. Isaac defended her, exchanging blows with the rival twin. Blood flew. Time bled. Beep. Click. The bomb was disarmed. They stood. Bleeding, panting—but alive. The bell rang. “WINNERS: ISAAC AND ISABELLA.” The crowd cheered—until a gunshot rang out. Screams. Smoke. Another mafia faction had breached the arena. Chaos erupted. The trial had been a trap. The twins ducked behind cover, and Isaac cursed. “Welcome to the family,” Isabella muttered, pulling her knife from her boot. “Looks like we’re already at war.” Jacob turned to the judge with a face of acceptance and told them that the future is now. The twins come together and their foreheads were stained with red paint on their foreheads as a sign of acceptance, dignity and a full mafia heir and heiress. The two were brought into the dining room with fine hardware and golden spoons to celebrate their victory.