All Chapters of Game over. : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Sean’s POVMy father comes walking out of the school with the twins. We roll up quickly, grab them and throw them in the back of the van. It was easier than I expected. The van rolls silently through the school’s parking lot, the sound of the engine barely loud enough to cover the faint squeak of the tires against the asphalt. I sit in the back, between the twins, hands gripping the edges of the seats, forcing myself to keep my voice calm, keep the atmosphere controlled. My father had told me, “They trust me now. Tomorrow, it’s time.” I had nodded, pretending to share his confidence, but deep down, I knew these kids weren’t the helpless little lambs he made them out to be.Connor shifts beside me, glancing up with those calculating eyes that seem older than his age. Carmen’s hands curl into tiny fists, her brows furrowed as though she’s already measuring the angles of escape, calculating trajectories, anticipating my every move. I let a faint smirk slip across my face. They’ve been tr

Madeline’s POVI pace the living room, my fingers clutching the edge of the table until my knuckles ache. Logan is beside me, phone in hand, eyes scanning the security cameras from the school over and over again, but all we see is the same thing: a white van rolling into the school parking lot, they must have known where the security cameras where as it dissipated from the view, but I know they took my children, whoever was in that van. There are no number plates on the van!“Do you see anyone? Anything?” I demand, my voice breaking under the pressure. Logan shakes his head, jaw tight.“Nothing. Just the van. Whoever took them knows exactly what they’re doing,” Logan says.I pace faster, my stomach twisting with every second. Anyone could have taken them. Anyone. My children, my little twins, are out there somewhere, and I can’t even see them. My hands shake, my nails digging into my palms. I feel utterly powerless. Logan places a hand on my shoulder. He takes me into his arms and hug

Logan’s POVThe yacht slices through the dark waters like a predator, the engines pulsing low and steady, the horizon stretching endlessly and empty before us, a black canvas scattered with cold stars. I stand on the deck with my men, the salt wind cutting against my face, carrying the faint tang of diesel and iron, the familiar scent of the sea. Behind me, the muffled whimpers and curses of our prisoners fill the silence between waves. Owen, Sean, and Roman are bound, wrists and ankles tied, their bodies bruised and weakened not only by the twins’ rebellion but by the iron fists of my men who silenced their struggling when they were dragged aboard. I keep my eyes on the water ahead, watching as we move farther from the coast, ensuring there will be no witnesses, no chance of anyone stumbling upon us. Out here, under this vast and indifferent sky, no one will hear their screams, and no one will find their bones.When I finally turn, I see the fear etched deep in their faces. Owen, the

Logan’s POVThe sound of Owen’s scream still lingers in the night air, ragged and broken, echoing over the water as though the ocean itself wants to carry his agony to the farthest shores, and I stand there, watching the man bleed out on the deck, watching the crimson trail seep between the planks, my chest rising and falling with a calmness I force myself to wear, because if I let my rage surface now it will not be calculated, it will not be measured, it will be blind, and I cannot afford blind rage with Maddie only a few steps away.Her hands tremble even though she tries to hide it, her eyes hard and blazing when she demanded the truth, her blade steady when she carved confession after confession from Owen, but now I see the edges of her strength fraying, I see the weight pressing down on her shoulders, and though she stands like a Donna, like a Santoro heir who has claimed her first blood, she is still the woman I love, the mother of my children, and she cannot carry this night al

Madeline’s POVComing home tonight feels heavier than it ever has before, as if the door we step through is not only the entrance to our house but the fragile line between two worlds, the dark one we left behind at the ocean, where blood and salt mixed with screams, and this bright one, where little hands and innocent questions wait for me. It feels strange to stand here with my heart still beating to the rhythm of waves crashing and sharks circling, yet to hear laughter and footsteps approaching, to be met not with fear but with joy.The moment the door clicks shut behind us, there is no time to breathe before two familiar voices ring out, high and eager, calling for us as if we have been gone much longer than a single night. Connor bursts into the hall first, so fast his sock-covered feet almost slide out from under him, his face bright with excitement and his small body colliding into mine with enough force to nearly knock me back. He clings to me with his whole being, arms around