Gta 4 Roman's Death Novels & Stories

And I did not make a mistake there because when I tried to look up the grim reaper I was waiting for was in front of me and holding a gleaming but burning sword. "Ralph Recto, son of Luisito Recto. As one of the angels of death. I am putting you to death today. Get lost." At the same time, Saint said that was the gesture of his sword splitting into Ralph's body that traced the shock in his eyes. Even I was shocked, unable to speak and fear completely invaded my whole being. My lips parted in pity when I slowly saw Ralph's body burning in front of me until it turned to ashes and vanished in the blink of an eye.

The pinacolada suddenly tasted more bitter in my mouth. “You don’t remember anything,” Chloe said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “And he feels like a stranger. I get it. For what it's worth… you’re doing okay, El. You’ve been through a nightmare.” Before the knot in my throat could tighten, a flash of motion on the large television screen mounted above the bar caught my eye. It was a business news segment. The lower ticker read: Rhodes Inc. Announces Expansion Architecture. And then, Killian's face filled the screen.

"I'm off the grid. Dex, you need to call Harris. Tell him Jaxson was kidnapped, tell him about Pier 44, tell him everything—" A slow, wet, agonizing sound of clapping echoed through the freezing night air, cutting me off completely. I froze, the phone still pressed to my ear, as a shadow detached itself from the darkness near the library steps. Roman was limping heavily, his right leg dragging uselessly behind him, his expensive tactical gear soaked in freezing rain and white chemical foam. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury, the skin around his eyes blistered and red from the fire extinguisher, but in his right hand, the suppressed pistol was raised and aimed directly at my che

Adrian's team provided cover fire, but we were outnumbered. "This way!" Damian pulled me into an alley. We emerged near the Tiber River. Adrian's boat was waiting, engines running. "GO!" Adrian shouted from the helm. We jumped aboard as bullets sparked off metal. The boat roared away from the dock, leaving Rome and the burning safe house behind. In the cabin below deck, Damian pulled me into his arms, both of us shaking with adrenaline and relief. "You almost died," he said hoarsely. "You almost fucking died, and I—"

Roman pulled out all the stops, calling in every favor the Jacksons had to offer, throwing cash at top-notch doctors to yank me back from the Grim Reaper's grip. The second time, she got to my bodyguard, who slipped some nerve-wracking poison into my wine. I was out cold in the mansion for a solid 72 hours, teetering on the edge of brain-dead. Roman lost it. He shut down Hudson City tighter than a drum, hunted down everyone involved, and made sure they paid. It was a river of blood for his trouble. Her attacks, his rescues: it was like some twisted merry-go-round.

"Henry saved my life, but he became mentally impaired. I'm just putting up a fake wedding to cheer him up. But Mayor Walton, I really haven't seen John. He has been missing for four years. Can you please have some mercy?" I sneered by the window. Even so close to her downfall, she was still in denial. I struggled with all my might, slamming the shoulder that the security guards held onto the window. The window let out a loud thud. Wesley looked where the sound was coming from. Then, he led a police officer and charged into the room where I was. When he saw me, his murderous glance instantly turned into guilt, even with a hint of grovelling. "John, let me take you to the hospital right away."

In his shoes, I'd empty the entire clip. Instead, he just stares at Yannick, who angles his chin up as if he’s going to say something. But the only sound that emerges from his throat is a wet cough, sending crimson spittle everywhere. And then, just like that, he tumbles forward. Dead. Roman whimpers in my arms. "Are you okay?" I ask him. "Yes," he says into my shirt, before shifting around. I grab the back of his head. "Don’t look."

He’d called me under the pretense of wanting to talk strategy. But that wasn’t what happened. He'd poured us whiskey, told me I was the only man he'd ever trusted with her. And then he’d looked me in the eye and said, *"You're going to have to kill me, Zachary. For her to ever take full control. For her to be safe. You’ll need to end me." I remember laughing. Thinking it was some metaphor. Roman and his damn dramatic speeches. He didn’t smile back. He just told me the names of three men I needed to watch. He told me about a ledger I’d later find burned. He told me about Gio, about whispers he’d ignored.

"He’s drunk." Down below, Tristan raised a bloodied hand to his face, wiping at his nose. He stared at the blood on his fingers, his wide eyes narrowing as his jaw clenched. Nico sighed, raising his cup to his lips. "All the more reason he should’ve been locked up in his own cage. Roman is dead. He doesn't just know it yet." With a low growl, Tristan pushed himself off the metal walls. His fists tightened, and he rolled his shoulders, standing still.

“I can’t tell you. You don’t understand what they'll do to me.” Roman taps the barrel gently against his head. “So, you’re assuming you’ll survive me.” Paula’s eyes stretch wide. Roman breathes out. Then pulls the trigger. Click. Paula nearly collapses. Her head falls forward, her whole body shaking uncontrollably now. “That was five,” Roman says, dropping his voice to something almost tender, almost intimate. “Looks like today is the day you die.” “Roman, please,” Chloe sobs. “She’ll die. Please stop—”