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Brick and Apollo had gone to the office for a private meeting once they knew Woodley was on his way to recovery. Spencer and Ellen were on a video call with Rick, and he could hear the dude’s excitement all the way from Fire Lake. Griffin seemed to be hovering nearby, but never becoming part of the group for some unknown reason.

All Harris wanted to do was crawl back into bed with Woodley.

He quickly gave everyone a rundown on Woodley’s vastly improved condition before returning to the bedroom and taking over from his sister. Once alone with the man he now freely admitted he loved, Harris carefully crawled back into bed and held Woodley in his arms. Having the man by his side felt right, and he intended to make it permanent.

It wasn’t lost on him that it took almost losing this man for Harris to realize how much he meant to him. He should havenever allowed it to get to such an extreme, but now that he knew the truth, nothing would stop him from building a future with this man. Not even Woodley himself.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Woodley

Birds were singing. That had to be a good sign.

Woodley’s eyes burned as he struggled to open them. How long had he been out? Not long enough if the pain radiating from his back was anything to go by. When he shifted on the bed, a large arm wrapped around his hips, keeping him still.

“Don’t move too much. Your wound isn’t completely healed just yet, and I don’t want you to start bleeding again.”

Harris’s voice washed over him, sending warmth through his chilled body. When his vision finally cleared, he found himself in his bed at the rental, with Harris beside him. He was a sight for literally sore eyes.

“Hey,” Woodley said, his voice cracked as he spoke.

“Here, drink this,” Harris said, holding a straw to Woodley’s chapped lips. “Not too much at first.”

The cold water soothed his parched throat, but he was careful not to overdo it and choke. Once he was done, Woodley took stock of his aching body. He was still in the middle of healing. His lung was mostly healed, but his ribs, muscles, and skin were still pretty raw. That’s when he noticed a slight difference in the typical way he healed.

“Something's different about how I’m healing,” Woodley stated. “What happened?”

“We had a little help,” Harris said. “Or should I say a ton of help?”

“Mrs. Greer?”

It would make sense, considering her ability to heal injuries. After all, she’d saved Stryker’s life when he’d been shot rescuing John.

“No, someone else got here first,” Harris said with a sexy grin. Woodley was happy and relieved to see it again. Then what he’d said registered with Woodley.

“Someone else? Who? I don’t know anyone else with that ability,” Woodley said, unsure if he’d heard him right.

“Her name is Renee, and she’s a survivor like us but from Apollo’s team. She has the same mutations as Mrs. Greer, so she helped speed along your healing ability. Mrs. Greer and the others arrived afterward, but we were in a hurry, and Apollo reached out to help.”

“How did Apollo know anything happened?” Woodley didn’t think Brick would allow for outside help.

“He could sense Conor’s concern and your injuries. Turns out the big dude can keep track of all survivors he comes in contact with.”

“That’s impressive and a bit concerning. If Apollo can track us, are we ever safe?” Woodley asked.

“You’re right. I’m also worried, but we should be fine as long as Apollo stays on the right side of this fight against the Noah Group.”

“Considering he used his ability to help me, I’d say he’s on the right side, at least at the moment. Let’s hope it stays that way, or we could be screwed.” The big dude had more abilities than they knew about. Abilities that caused the Noah Group to keep him hidden and tell his parents he’d died at birth. Worried about what may come was just the tip of the iceberg.

“True,” Harris agreed. “How are you feeling?”

“Considering I was shot in the back, pretty good for a person who should be dead. I still have a bit of healing to do, but I’m out of the woods.”

Woodley hadn’t honestly known when he threw himself in front of the window whether his mutation was strong enough to heal a wound that severe. Now, though, he was fairly sure he would’ve been able to heal himself, but the extra help was appreciated, and sped things along.

“Good. You scared the hell out of me. Next time you decide to be a hero, give me a heads-up, ’k?”

“You were scared?” He had to be kidding. Harris didn’t do emotions. Even fear seemed to be outlawed in his physical and mental makeup.

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