Gol D Roger Last Words Novels & Stories

Near the end, he just cried, his shoulders shaking, and there was something almost peaceful about watching the man run out of everything but the truth. I crouched down again to hear his last words, tilting my ear toward his broken mouth like a priest listening to a dying man's confession. "Salvatore is coming to Chicago tonight. He'll be at his estate," he finally whispered. By the time I picked up the gun, he was already dead in every way that mattered. I wiped my hands on the towel Sergio handed me without my asking. His eyes stayed somewhere over my shoulder, never on me. I rolled my sleeves back down, buttoned each cuff, and was reaching for my jacket when he cleared his throat behind me

he raised the gun to Rocco's face "Remember my face in hell" The amount of rage burning in Rocco is something he couldn't define. Not just that they wanted to double-cross him, they also wanted to kill him. His shoulders drooped to tell how disappointed he is as he raised his palms to his head. A sly smirk appeared on him as he grinned. "Hit it Dee" was the last thing he said before a loud noise raised and everywhere went black.

My head was on the ground, my eyes staring at the sole of Roger. “Rest in peace, Princess.” Roger said, walking away.

I pointed at the rogue. “So sad, you won’t be able to kill me when you are out because you would have been dead before laying those filthy fingers on me.” He mocked me. “This is the height of it, now say goodbye to your good for nothing partners.” “Go to hell.!!!!” He shouted “Is that your last word to say before you die.” I asked him. “I am supposed to ask you if that is your last word because you are going to die.” He blurted out.

I wanted to see the picture he was talking about. Roger ran up the stairs and returned with a single medium-sized photo. With trembling hands, I took it due to the red cross print on it. It was true. For whatever reason Hank went against the original plan, it seemed to be worth it because of how it enabled Roger to discover something I would have never discovered. "There is something written at the back, dad," Roger said. I quickly turned the photo around, causing my hand to tremble slightly. Behind it was written, "Delanie, today, your only son, Giovanni Dawson, would join you in your grave."

He asked in wonder as he turned to look back at us, and he looked at himself in shock, seeing that his hands were starting to fade. I was too stunned to speak, and both OJ and Marcella were curious to know what was going on. "Am I dying? Damn, I guess this is it." The panicking guy said and looked at us for the last time and smiled, and he said, "Good luck with your lives, gays! I guess this is my final adiós. Ciao!" "Goodbye!" OJ and I muttered, still shocked with what we had witnessed, and he totally disappeared.

he whispered into my ear. “What?” I mumbled, my brain a complete mess. I was sure that whatever I would say after that delirious orgasm would be incoherent at best. “About the war?” Roger said, his voice still deep, and his lips brushing the skin of my shoulder “Oh, it is inevitable,” I said, and he hummed. “You already said that,” he sighed. “I don`t remember where I left the conversation,” I confessed. “You said they were gaining time, but I don`t understand what for?” he licked my neck, and I shivered.

The words landed in the middle of a silent room, and I stood there for a long moment absorbing them, waiting for him to take it back, waiting for some flicker of the boy from the park bench to resurface and undo what he'd just said, and when nothing came, when he just stood there, exhausted and resolute and unwilling to reach for me even as I felt myself breaking apart in front of everyone we knew, I understood that this time, whatever we'd started rebuilding really was over. "Okay," I said, and my voice came out steadier than I felt, some last reserve of dignity holding me together long enough to get the word out. "Okay. I hope that's actually true, and not just something you'll regret tomo

] Miguel was going blue, Romero held him so tightly he could not breathe his hand was like a vice around his neck as he tried to free himself using both his hands, ‘Lasciami andare, ti prego, non riesco a respirare, Romero, ti prego.’ [Let me go, please, I can’t breathe, Romero, please.] Romero brought his face close to Miguel’s anger pouring from him, ‘Se non me lo dici subito, sarà l'ultimo respiro che fara.’ [If you don’t fucking tell me right this minute it will be the last breath you ever take.] He was right in his Uncle’s face and it was clear he meant what he said, ‘Lei se n'è andata, Romero.’ [She’s gone, Romero.]

"Papà..." Blood spluttered from his mouth as he struggled to draw in air. "Ah, P...principessa..." Principessa "Please don't!" He cried out and he forced a painful smile. "T-t-his is not o-over!" His words were a tortured whisper, each syllable a struggle. "I... w-ill... be... wa-i-ting for... Sergio De Niro in hell..." His chest ceased its faint rise and fall, and his body went still. The silence was heavy, punctuated only by Rosana's anguished sobs. He was gone!