Her refusal instantly made Laica's eyes glisten with feigned sorrow.
"Jackson, is she still blaming me for her imprisonment?" She pouted.
Jackson's face darkened, the air turning sharp with tension. "Helena, you don't have the right to refuse."
He stepped forward, towering over her. "If you don't want Jennelyn to be comfortable inside the prison, then you can stay here and lie down."
"Jennelyn?!" Hearing that name made Helena's heart race. She looked at him in shock and asked anxiously, "What did you do to her?"
Jennelyn had been the only light in that darkness. When fever racked Helena and the cell felt like an oven, it was Jennelyn who had slammed her palms bloody against the iron door until a guard came.
Jackson's gaze lingered on her terrified expression, and the corners of his lips curled in satisfaction.
"I didn't do anything to her," he said smoothly. "But as long as you behave, she'll keep living well in there."
The thinly veiled threat wrapped around Helena's throat like a steel wire. Her blood ran cold, freezing her from the inside out.
It took her a long moment before she forced out a single word bitterly. "...Fine."