Exposure Read Online Free

immediately, but I couldn’t. To me, his betrayal was still too raw. Ran too deep.
    Plus, I wasn’t ready to deal with the other stuff between us.
    He’d confessed something else that night. A secret I kept to myself, even now.
    Ben had done it all to impress me. He wanted to be more than just friends.
    Even five months later, I didn’t know how to feel about that. About any of it.
    So I did what I do best when it comes to boys—avoid the topic.
    Hi must’ve read my thoughts.
    “Ben didn’t know what was going to happen,” he said quietly. “Not the bad parts. He wouldn’t have done that to us, Tory. You know that.”
    I didn’t respond.
    Maybe I agreed, but it didn’t change how I felt.
    How can I ever trust him again?
    Ben, one of my closest friends. The boy I’d gone to school with every day, and hung out with for hours afterward. A member of my pack. A Viral.
    Ben, who was practically family. In some ways, even closer.
    No longer.
    Ben had been kicked out of Bolton Prep for his role in the Gamemaster scandal. That’s why he mostly stayed with his mother now. Myra’s Mount Pleasant apartment is much closer to Ben’s new school, Wando High.
    Ben’s expulsion wasn’t fair. Even I could admit that. But when is life fair?
    There was nothing fair about Mom getting killed.
    Enough.
    Ben was gone, and we couldn’t change it.
    Closing my eyes, I tried to banish the topic.
    And felt a tingle in the corner of my mind. A slight . . . pull. Barely perceptible, like a mild ocean current. A gentle breeze of Viral awareness, tickling the recesses of my brain even though my powers were switched off.
    I’d experienced it a half-dozen times since the hurricane. Most recently in court that morning. The sensation came and went without warning—I could neither summon it, nor capture it once it surfaced.
    And lately, the effect was getting stronger.
    Which worried me.
    Was this some lingering psychological remnant? Post-traumatic stress? A harmless echo of the measures we’d taken while fighting the Gamemaster, soon to fade?
    Or was it the harbinger of a more serious, permanent change in my psyche? The first symptom of opening a door that, once unlocked, can never be fully closed again.
    The feeling escalated, taunting my conscious mind. It was maddening, being right on the cusp, yet unable to grasp it at all. I nearly ground my teeth in frustration.
    Calm down. Let it come to you.
    “Tory?” Shelton was eyeing me strangely. “You okay?”
    Hi waved a hand before my face. “Anyone home? Got that bad mojo working?”
    Ignoring them both, I slowed my breathing. Closed my eyes, and tried to wrap my mind in the strange sensation. Delve into its essence. Keep the slippery vibe from fading away.
    There.
    Something slid into focus.
    Suddenly, I could feel Coop’s presence, though he was sprawled on his doggie bed in the other room. A similar awareness extended toward Shelton and Hi. It went beyond merely sensing their locations. The vibe felt like . . . kinship. A strange knowing.
    I could sense the Virals in a way I can’t explain.
    Hi. Shelton. Coop. Even Ben, far away.
    My pack.
    But you’re not flaring.
    How was that possible?
    By now, you’re probably wondering what I’m talking about. Here’s the deal.
    Last year, my friends and I were infected by a supervirus, a vicious little pathogen created by Dr. Marcus Karsten, the former director of LIRI and my dad’s old boss. Hoping to strike it rich with a new vaccine, Karsten combined DNA from two different strains of parvovirus, accidentally creating a third.
    Major problem: This newborn germ was contagious to humans. My friends and I caught it while rescuing Cooper, whom Karsten was using as a test subject.
    Once inside us, the ruthless bug rewrote our genetic code, slipping canine sequences into our human double helixes.
    The sickness struck first. Headaches. Fevers. Nightmares. Blackouts.
    Strange transformations followed, as the microscopic invader shuffled