His gaze flickered with something unreadable. “I needed to see if it worked.”
I wanted to scoff, but the pain was too much. I shut my eyes, exhaustion pulling me under again.
Days passed. The recovery was slow, and Hector and Hera were there through it all. It was strange, seeing Hector—cold, ruthless Hector—handling me as if I were fragile. He barely spoke, but his presence never wavered.
The day the bandages were removed, my heart pounded violently in my chest. I took a deep breath and faced the mirror.
I gasped.
Hera had done it. The face staring back at me wasn’t mine. It was hers. Francheska Falcon.
I reached up with trembling fingers, touching my new features. The same high cheekbones, the same delicate lips. The same woman Hector had once loved.
I turned to him, searching his face for a reaction. His eyes darkened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Hector—”
Before I could finish, he grabbed me and pulled me into a crushing embrace. His body trembled slightly against mine.
“Alicia,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair. “We need to make this worth it. You and Francheska deserve justice.”