Superman: The Lost Warrior

Zara's POV

I eventually give in to Kara's constant nagging and use my other powers. Of course, I make it clear that I won't use telekinesis on anyone except Kara. I've already learned my lesson. (Like that one time Kal-El was just a newborn, and I got curious about what goes on in a baby's mind. Turns out it's just... blank. Never again.)

Kara's POV

"Please, Zara, just try it on Damian," I whisper, nudging her insistently.

"No way. I'm not doing that," she whispers back, clearly reluctant to even consider reading his mind.

"Come on, don't you want to know what goes on in that head of his? I sure do," I press, grinning.

Zara hesitates but eventually sighs. "Fine. One condition—never ask me to do this again, okay?"

"Sure, sure," I say, even though I'm already scheming to convince her to teach me next time.

Zara glances at Damian for a few seconds, her gaze focused and intense. Then she abruptly turns away. "I didn't see anything," she says, her voice tinged with concern.

Before I can probe further, Damian's voice interrupts us. "I'm going out. It's boring in here," he announces, standing up.

Zara's eyes light up at the opportunity. "Can I come, too?" she asks eagerly.

"Of course," he replies without hesitation.

As they walk off together, a thought crosses my mind—did Damian do that on purpose just to spend time alone with her?

Damian's POV

I lay sprawled on the couch while Zara and Kara whisper to each other nearby. They're too quiet for me to hear, but I have a pretty good idea that it's about me.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel someone trying to get into my head. It's faint, but it's there. I clear my thoughts, keeping my mind as blank as possible.

I glance at them, and they immediately look away, trying way too hard to act casual. "Yeah, it had to be them," I think, smirking to myself.

Suddenly, an idea strikes me. "I'm going out. It's boring in here," I say, standing up.

Just as I anticipated, Zara quietly asks, "Can I come, too?"

"Of course," I reply, hiding my amusement.

We walk in comfortable silence for a while before I decide to bring it up. "It was you, wasn't it?" I ask, breaking the quiet.

Her guilty reaction is immediate. "What are you talking about?" she blurts, her voice higher than usual.

"You should really get better at lying, Zara," I tease, unable to hold back a grin.

She stammers out an apology, not just for lying but for trying to read my mind.

"It's fine," I say, brushing it off. "Just try to be less obvious next time," I add with a chuckle.

Her face flushes, and she quickly turns her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. She starts to walk ahead, but on impulse, I grab her hand to stop her.

She turns back, startled. "Something wrong?" she asks, her eyes searching mine.

I realize too late what I've done. My grip on her hand wasn't intentional—it was pure instinct. "Nothing," I say quickly, letting go of her hand.

But to my surprise, she holds onto mine instead. "I feel more comfortable like this," she says softly, her gaze steady and sincere.

For a moment, I'm frozen. My thoughts race for something to say, but before I can respond, we hear a desperate cry that shatters the moment.

"Please, someone help me!"