Joseph Fallen

by M. S. Willis

  “And I do not want to be the man who allowed Joseph’s wife to leave him.”

  Chapter Nine

  Arianna stripped off her clothes, dropping them along the floor in her path to the sunken shower in the large bathroom of her suite. Her eyes flicked to the open windows, seeking out any movement or signs of the presence of the men watching from outside. Moving to the window, she drew the curtains closed with such force, she almost ripped them from the rods.

  Tears trailed down her cheeks, her stomach knotting over itself from the mixture of the lack of food and desperate grief. Stepping into the shower with heavy and weighted steps, each jolt against the floor resonated through her bones. She flicked the water on and stood back waiting for it to become warm.

  “Tell me who owns you Arianna…”

  A flash of black hair, the water running in rivulets down the face of a man she thought she’d known – the one that she still loved, despite what he’d done. Memories overtaking her from the day they’d first moved into the mansion, she stepped underneath the spray, watched as it streamed across her skin. Her muscles ached and were crippled by the emotional pain that had sprung within her, an avalanche from which she could not run or escape.

  “You are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen – and to think that you are mine, always…”

  Her lips parted, the water sliding along her lips and tongue when she responded to the phantom of her husband.

  “And forever.”

  Resignation settled over her, but she wouldn’t allow self-pity. She’d been foolish not to have noticed the signs of her husband’s actions: the late nights, the fitful sleep, the obsessive mannerisms – but mostly, the way his moods bounced between anger and happiness – the former eventually smothering the latter.

  But, she’d done nothing.

  Shutting off the water, she stepped out, solemnly drying herself with a towel before moving into her large, walk-in closet and choosing a casual pair of pants and a t-shirt to wear. She knew Joseph preferred her to be dressed up, to appear as if she was the wealthiest woman around, but she could no longer play into the illusion of grandeur that had become his obsession – one that led him directly into the arms of a life rooted in crime.

  After dressing, she laid down on the bed, pulling Joseph’s pillow to her face and breathing his scent in deeply. She loved him, but the knowledge that she couldn’t accept the life he’d chosen forced tears from her eyes once more.

  Minutes passed quietly by while her mind wandered over the few years they’d lived in the mansion. Sleep crept up on her like a silent companion, but she was instantly awakened by the quick rap of knuckles against her bedroom door. She sat up, her eyes coming back into focus after being ripped back from a numb place.

  She made two attempts to stand in her emotionally weakened state before giving up and answering, “Come in.”

  The green eyed man opened the door but did not move past the doorway. His expression carried a hint of concern, but it was fleeting in its duration. “Joseph has requested that I escort you to an event in the ballroom in an hour. He also requested that you dress up.” His eyes traveled quickly over the pants and shirt she wore that were now wrinkled from her attempt at sleep.

  She sighed. “And my husband couldn’t have come to make the request himself? Have I become nothing more than a servant who is to answer only when he calls?” Bitter and aggrieved, her words were spoken with a harsh tone she’d not intended.

  “Mrs. Carmichael…”

  “My name is Arianna. If you are to be my jailor, you might as well use my name.”

  He smiled slightly, the dimples embedded in his cheeks once again showing through the shadow of stubble. “And mine is Connor, however, given that you are Joseph’s wife, I’ll prefer calling you by your married name.”

  A humorless laugh escaping her lips, she threw her hands up in defeat. “Of course…” Looking up at him, her expression carried more of a pleading quality than she’d wanted. “I’ve been delegated to an object that is owned, nothing more.”

  Connor’s features remained blank, but the slight tension to his posture gave away just a bit of the thoughts that raced through his head. “He asked that you dress for a formal event. I’ll be in the living room when you are ready to be escorted to the ballroom.”

  “And if I’m never ready? I’m not sure I want to know what my husband has planned for the evening…or that I want to see him.” The last words trailed off quietly, an inner thought spoken aloud.

  Nodding his head in her direction, Connor answered, “It’s not your decision to make. I’ll be in the living room.”

  After the light click of the lock, Arianna was left to dutifully follow Joseph’s instructions.

  . . .

  Joseph sat in a large chair, positioned purposefully in the center of the small stage that stood in the front of the ballroom. To his side was a second chair intended for Arianna. He’d had tables arranged throughout the room, a touch of class required for an event worthy of his presence. The steel grey of his eyes moved over the room. Men shuffled in dressed in suit and ties, each one undoubtedly armed heavily. His eyes kept flicking over to the doors to the right wing. He was nervous to have his wife in attendance and he knew she’d object to the violence that was to take place, but he hoped that if she witnessed the control, the power, that he’d obtained over the network, the fear he’d seen darken her eyes that morning would dissipate.

  While surveying the men as they filled the tables before him, he smiled slightly, pleased about the organization he’d created. These men weren’t thugs. They weren’t common criminals that ran the streets, desperately working to draw an income. No – these men were well-educated, influential characters who directed those less powerful, who sat back disguised and unnoticed while their underlings dirtied their hands with the work on the street. It was Joseph’s diligence in his selection of the units’ leaders that made The Estate so successful. Instead of multiple areas of crime fighting amongst each other in their efforts to gain ground, they worked together. It was a simple idea, one that not only increased the profit for Joseph, but also each unit involved. And now that the authorities were bought and paid for, there was no person to become inquisitive in their activities or muddy up the criminal dealings of those who were part of The Estate.

  After the men had settled, Joseph heard the latch of the right wing doors; the groan of wood as the doors were pulled back announcing the arrival of Arianna. His eyes shot to the right and he watched as she entered the room, a sight to behold in a simple red gown that shimmered magnificently under the light cast by the large chandelier in the room. Her shoulders were held back, her chin set straight, and her stride carried a strength to it that Joseph had never before seen. His eyes narrowed from his attempt to discern why Arianna now appeared to march when she’d always before appeared to glide.

  Connor entered behind her, a warrior as usual, dressed for combat rather than a formal affair. His boots fell heavily against the stone floor, the sound echoing off the walls when the room had fallen silent in response to the appearance of Joseph’s wife.

  She quickly climbed the stairs before moving across the stage to take her place at Joseph’s side. Emory and Connor took their positions behind Joseph and Arianna and a hush fell across the room once more. Before speaking, Joseph looked to his wife seeking approval, but finding instead the expression of a woman scorned.

  His eyes darkened and his head swiveled back to look over the audience.

  “Gentlemen, thank you for coming this evening and on such short notice.” His voice bellowed throughout the room, strong and dignified while addressing his men. “As you all know, I’ve worked very hard to create The Estate. It is an organization unlike any other, and I’m gratified that my selection of your groups has turned out favorably. We are a collective that benefits not only ourselves, but each other and we have all grown exponentially as a result.”

  He paused.

  “That being said, I mu
st now inform you about an incident that took place yesterday outside of my home; one that will not be tolerated and one that will require punishment as a result.”

  He heard a slight gasp from Arianna, before noticing out of his peripheral vision that she squirmed in her seat. Ignoring her obvious discomfort, he continued.

  “Eleven men from one of the Estate’s units believed they were more powerful than me – than us – as a collective. While walking yesterday, my wife…” He turned slightly to motion towards the woman who now had a look of absolute hatred written across her face. “…was attacked. I’ll not detail the attacker’s intent, because the only fact that is of importance is that it was attempted.” Pausing again, he took a moment to look into the eyes of each man in the room. He observed their mannerisms, the slight furrow to their brow, or the movement of their body behind the table where they were seated. His search to determine if any others had been involved delivered no firm answers, but he was pleased to believe that each man in the room had found it a surprise to hear about the occurrence.

  Standing suddenly, he walked towards the front of the stage and raised his hand to motion Emory to his side. Once Emory had crossed the short expanse of the stage and taken his place, Joseph stated, “Gentlemen – I wish to make it abundantly clear just how thorough and swift my reach is within this network. The man who attacked my wife was executed on sight, however, I am not stupid enough to believe he acted alone. Within less than twenty-four hours of the attack, I not only discovered the identities of his co-conspirators, but apprehended them as well.” A sly smile slithered across his face when the room grew deathly quiet. Once Emory had made his way off the stage and was positioned by the doors to the west wing, Joseph looked away from the audience to nod towards Emory and indicate that it was time to open the doors.

  Chapter Ten

  Arianna straightened in her seat almost immediately when Joseph began speaking. Recognition slapping her across the face, she was reminded of another speech Joseph had given – years ago and in a different ballroom. It was the tone of his voice that chilled her so thoroughly; an apathetic severance from emotion and a lethal edge to his words that were spoken so eloquently, most would not detect the threat. It was that other side to her husband; the one that had remained hidden to her except for in those moments where he’d lost himself and hurt or scared her as a result.

  Her eyes looked over the audience and followed the path of their attention and stares to the doors leading to Joseph’s wing. Like a suffocating blanket, she held her breath, anticipation and dread assaulting her thoughts from not knowing what was hidden behind those large, wooden doors.

  The loud clatter of the wrought iron handles sounded just before a slow creak reverberated through the room. As the doors parted and as light was allowed to filter in from the large hallway behind those doors, Arianna’s eyes widened to see ten men, chained and hooded, being led single file into the ballroom. Three men, dressed in head to toe black, directed the line of chained men. When they’d reached the center of the ballroom, they were stopped and made to stand facing the stage. One by one, their hoods were removed revealing disfiguring injuries to their faces.

  With his hands clasped tight behind his back and his feet held slightly apart, Joseph stood quietly above them. “Welcome, gentlemen. How nice of you to join us this evening.”

  Nothing. No emotion to his words at the sight of ten men who looked to have already been brutalized before being led into the room. Each man swayed on his feet, their eyes were swollen closed and blood and dirt was smeared across their exposed skin.

  “Turn around.”

  Another chill brushed down Arianna’s spine from the ice cold manner in which Joseph had given that instruction.

  The men rotated slowly around until they faced the audience; murmurs and gratified grunts sounded when the members of that audience were faced with the brutality already executed against the men. Joseph didn’t move and didn’t speak while he waited for the audience to calm back to a point of attentive silence.

  From the corner of her eye, Arianna noticed Connor move out from behind where she sat. He stepped towards the front of the stage, but stopped suddenly to bend down and whisper, “Close your eyes if you can.”

  Her eyes shot to his. He looked her over for only a second, before straightening and moving to descend the stairs and take a position behind the chained men.

  Once Connor had taken his position, Joseph spoke again. “I want every man here tonight to look at the faces of ten men who attempted to attack not only me, but also the network that has made the rest of you more powerful for just being part of it. I was going to quietly do away with these men, however, I remembered that we are a collective and as such, their punishment should be decided upon by The Estate as a whole.” Joseph took a few steps, his head turning as if he was eyeing each man that sat in the room.

  “There are only two options – death or imprisonment. Therefore, in order to let your voice and your decision be known, I ask this: for those who want death, stand up, and for those who want imprisonment, remain seated.”

  Her gut churning painfully over itself, Arianna’s muscles tensed when she saw how every audience member slowly rose from their seat. Hurriedly looking over their faces only terrified her more to notice how, like Joseph, these men displayed no expressions of horror or disgust at what Joseph was intending to do; but instead looked disinterested and bored as they voted for the death of the chained men. After each man had stood, Joseph stepped back from the front of the stage and sat down in his seat. Out of desperation to stop the impending slaughter, she reached over to him and placed her hand on his arm. He twisted to look in her direction and smiled. His voice kept low and with insanity alight in his eyes, he asked, “Do you see, Arianna – do you see what becomes of any man who threatens our home?”

  Shock washed over her allowing tears to fall helplessly from her eyes. Not appearing to notice or care, Joseph looked back towards the audience. A smile curling the corners of his sculpted lips, he ordered, “Kill them.”

  “On your knees.” Connor’s voice rang out as he walked to the first chained man to the right and lifted his gun. Surprised by the blast, Arianna fell back when the first gunshot sounded. The noise was deafening and her horrified eyes were locked tight to the blood that burst from the man’s head just before his body fell unceremoniously to the stone tiled floor below.

  Close your eyes if you can…

  He’d known what would be done to the men - he’d known what the members of the network would choose. It was a warning and when the second gunshot sounded, she listened to his advice. Clenching her eyes shut tightly against the horror being carried out before her, she raised her hands up to cover her ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound of murder and death.

  One more shot - then another – and another; until ten shots had announced the death of ten men; slowly, methodically, and without reluctance or remorse.

  Her head fell back against her chair just before she bent forward, folding in over herself in an effort to escape. Her mind swimming in adrenaline brought about by panic, she didn’t dare open her eyes and she wouldn’t remove her hands from her ears. Muffled sounds occurred around her; shuffling noises mingling with the highs and lows of male voices as the people in the room reacted to what had just occurred. Arianna felt alone, lost and exposed to the lunacy of her surroundings. When it felt like she would slide out of her chair despite how her muscles were locked across her bones, she felt hands grip her arms to pull her back up before her hands were forced from her ears so that someone could whisper to her.

  “Arianna, open your eyes and look at me.”

  When she shook her head in refusal, Joseph demanded again, “Open your eyes, Arianna.”

  But still, she refused.

  Forcefully, Joseph pulled her forward until he could wrap one arm around her back and one underneath her legs. After he’d lifted her from the chair, she felt him descend the stairs of the stage and quic
kly stride out of the ballroom. She heard the doors open and latch closed and then silence overtook her, except for the rhythmic pound of two sets of feet.

  Joseph only slowed when they’d reached her suite and she assumed another man moved to open the doors once she heard the familiar creak of the hinges. Joseph entered the suite, immediately turning in the direction of their bedroom. Finally placing her down on the bed, his hand moved over her hair as if to soothe her.

  When he spoke, she noticed how his voice and overall demeanor changed now that he was outside of view of the other members of his organization. “Arianna – speak to me, open yours eyes at least.”

  She obeyed, allowing the clear blue to peak out from beneath her lashes to look into the cool, yet concerned color of steel. Joseph stared at her for a few moments; the wrinkle to his brow and the sides of his eyes the only thing that betrayed his inner thoughts. She thought she saw a hint of compassion, of regret; but when he finally spoke, the only emotion that erupted from him was rage.

  “How dare you? How dare you embarrass me like that in front of my men?! Why are you acting like this?” He sat back, only giving her enough room that she no longer felt the heat of his breath roll across her face. “Answer me!”

  She cried out in fear at his raised voice and attempted to break free of his grasp. When she flinched at his tightened grip, he smiled again, but the black veins that dimmed the light grey of his eyes warned her that it wasn’t humor or happiness he felt.

  When he finally let go of her arm, he did so in a way that caused her to fall back on the bed, like nothing more than a doll thrown carelessly across the mattress. He stood up, took a few steps back, but never unlocked his eyes from her face.

  “Are you going to answer me, Arianna, or do I need to force you?”