“Now.” He continued his focus solely on the detective. “Which of these would you prefer I used on your girlfriend?” He reached to his hip and Jane instantly recognised the holster Maura had given her for her birthday set firmly on his belt. His gnarled fingers running over the leather as he smiled. “I have this lovely gun.” He said, pulling the weapon from the holster and turning it over in his hand, “But they’re so impersonal, barbaric.” He turned suddenly, aiming the weapon at Maura’s head.

“NO!!!” Jane screamed and fought vainly against her restraints.

He returned the gun to the holster and regarded Jane curiously. “You know you can’t get free.” He told her, “and that fat cop won’t save you again.”

She met his eyes with her own steely glare.

“So why do you fight me Jane? You know we’re destined to be together.” Maura curled her lip. She knew Jane would never reciprocate her feelings but she couldn’t understand how Hoyt could think Jane would do anything other than kill him if she had the chance. Even she had more chance with Jane than he ever would.

“Or do you fight for her?” he crossed the room and smiled at Maura. “The good doctor.” Stepping behind her, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back as he reached into his pocket. “She’s beautiful Jane.” He told her, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as he raised the scalpel.

“Don’t you touch her!” Jane knew she was playing into Hoyt’s fantasy. This was what he did, it got him off but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I wonder if you’d still fight for her if she didn’t have a face!” His whole demeanour changed as the scalpel slid from behind Maura’s ear to just above her jugular vein, leaving a crimson trail of life in its wake.

“You *****!!”

Hoyt laughed as Maura shook with tears. His hand snaking down across the exposed area of her chest. Jane watched him, his filthy hand touching her far too intimately. Maura remained silent, she could feel her skin crawling under his touch and her stomach flipped. She forced herself to meet Jane’s eyes, pleading with her. Jane bit her lip, tasting the coppery flavour of her own blood. She was making it worse by shouting, she knew it.