Lisbon's head throbbed as she slowly regained consciousness. Her vision blurred at first, but with a few steady blinks, the room came into focus. It was a small, decrepit space—rustic in the worst way, with peeling paint and a musty stench hanging in the air. Her hands were cuffed to a heavy wooden table, the iron biting into her wrists.
"Water?" Lazarus's smooth, mocking voice broke the silence.
"No, thanks," Lisbon replied dryly, masking the sharp fear twisting in her gut.
He chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Do you know who I am?"
Lisbon studied him carefully. At first glance, he could pass for an ordinary guy—his striped polo shirt neatly tucked into his slacks, giving off a disarmingly unremarkable appearance. There was nothing overtly dangerous about him, at least not on the surface. But then there was the gum—he chewed it casually, almost cockily, as though the entire situation was just another chore in his day.
He exuded a chilling confidence, the kind that came from experience, from knowing exactly what he was doing. This wasn't his first time. He'd killed before—enough times to master the art of staying calm and composed, even while holding someone's life in his hands.
This time, however, the grim reality hit hard. This time, she was his target.
She snapped off her thoughts and replied, "Lazarus," her tone clipped.
"That's right. Smart girl. I bet you know that from the radio, huh? When I was chatting with your friend… Patrick Jane, wasn't it?"
Lisbon stayed quiet, her eyes studying his every movement.
"You know," Lazarus continued, gesturing vaguely to the room, "this place has its charm. Could use a little renovation, but I like the atmosphere. What do you think?"
"Interesting place," Lisbon replied evenly. "But yeah, you could definitely do with an update."
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I see why he likes you. That sharp tongue." He straightened, his expression darkening. "You two are quite close, aren't you?"
"Obviously," Lisbon said, feigning boredom. "We work together."
"Is that all?" he pressed, his gaze narrowing.
Lisbon shrugged, her expression impassive. "Not my problem if you don't believe it."
Lazarus chuckled darkly, circling the table like a predator. "Well, whatever it is you two have going on, I did some digging." He paused, leaning down to meet her gaze. "And I came to a very interesting conclusion—you're important to him. Very important."
"Good for you," Lisbon said coolly, though her heart raced.
"But you know what's tragic?" Lazarus continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Your precious Patrick Jane? He's just one big, elaborate fake."
"Oh, come on," Lisbon retorted, rolling her eyes. "You're going to need better material than that. I've heard you two go at it over the radio. He's got you figured out, and you know it."
Lazarus's jaw tightened briefly, a crack in his otherwise composed demeanor, but his sinister grin quickly resurfaced, sharper and more menacing than before. "Maybe," he said, his tone casual, almost playful. "You know, at first, I thought about going straight for him—kidnapping him, maybe killing him, or even torturing him. I hadn't decided yet. But then, I had a better idea."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a chilling calm. "What's the best way to destroy someone? To hurt them in the deepest, most excruciating way? Simple—you take away the one thing they can't bear to lose." He paused, watching her closely, feeding off the defiance in her eyes.
"I did my homework on Patrick Jane. Oh, yes, I know all about him. The con man, the self-proclaimed psychic who plays with people's minds. Clever, manipulative, charming. But do you know what else I learned? It's his arrogance, his games, that got his family killed." He tilted his head, his grin widening. "Poetic, isn't it? And now, hurting him directly wouldn't be half as satisfying as making him watch someone else pay the price. Slowly. Painfully."
His eyes gleamed with malice. "So, let's see what happens when I take the one thing he truly cares about. Let's see if all that cleverness holds up when he realizes he's powerless to save you."
Lisbon felt the chill of his words settle over her like ice, but she refused to show it. Her voice was steady when she replied, "You're underestimating him. And you're underestimating me."
Lazarus straightened, his eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation. "Oh, I'm counting on you being tough, Lisbon. That just makes it more fun."
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone with the sound of the door locking behind him. Lisbon's mind raced, she hit the table with her handcuffed hand, but one thought cut through the chaos like a blade:
Please, hold on, Jane. I'll give you time.