Chapter 119: Do You Trust Me

The wind carried the scent of bark and damp earth, swirling around them as the night pressed closer. The forest was silent now, save for the low hum of leaves whispering against each other. Orion stood below the thick bough where Sophia perched, the pale light filtering through the canopy above catching faintly on his hair and the hard line of his shoulders.

"Do you tust me?" He asked her again.

Sophia frowned down at him, clutching the rough bark of the tree. "What does trusting you have to do with anything?"

He tilted his head up, his eyes steady, a faint glint of amusement breaking through the steel in his tone. "Everything."

She blinked, caught off guard. "Everything?"

"Yes," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Because if you don’t trust me, you’ll never jump."

Her stomach knotted. "Jump?"

He nodded, stepping closer to the base of the tree, his hands spread slightly as if ready to catch her already. "Yes, Sophia, jump. I’ll catch you."

Sophia’s mouth opened, but no sound came. "You want me to jump from here? Orion, this is at least twenty feet!"

"Seventeen," he corrected, voice calm, maddeningly calm.

"Seventeen?" she sputtered. "Oh, well that changes everything, doesn’t it? I’ll just throw myself into the air because...oh wait...you think you can catch me before I break my neck?"

His brow lifted slightly. "You’re overthinking it."

"I’m staying alive."

A quiet laugh escaped him, barely audible but enough to make her scowl deepen. He folded his arms, his eyes never leaving hers. "Do you trust me?"

Sophia’s hands curled tighter around the bark. "This isn’t about trust. This is about...physics, and gravity, and the fact that if you miss by even half a second..."

"I won’t miss."

"Or if you step on a loose root and lose your balance..."

"I won’t."

"Or if the ground’s uneven and you miscalculate the..."

He cut her off with a quiet, almost dangerous smile. "Sophia."

Her heart skipped. She hated that tone, the low command in it that always made her pulse betray her.

He looked up, eyes calm but burning with quiet certainty. "Do you trust me?"

The air seemed to hold its breath.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. The forest’s hum faded, leaving only the faint thud of her heartbeat in her ears. Orion waited, unmoving, a silent pillar of assurance below her.

Sophia’s throat felt dry. She wanted to argue, to hurl another retort, but the words tangled in her chest. Against her better judgment, she found herself giving the faintest nod. So small it could have been missed...if not for the soft exhale that followed from him, like relief wrapped in restraint.

He smiled, a fleeting, honest curve that softened his features. "Then jump."

Her pulse spiked again but she grumbled instead. "You better catch me, Orion."

"I will."

"And if you don’t..."

"I will," he repeated, voice steady, unshaken. Then, more quietly, he added, "If you get hurt, then I get hurt. So, you don’t have to worry."

The words landed differently. They were too heavy to be casual, too gentle to be mere reassurance. Something flickered in his gaze that made her breath catch, and for a moment she forgot about the jump entirely.

He wasn’t just talking about the fall.

Sophia swallowed, forcing her eyes away, but her heart was a traitor, beating wildly against her ribs.

"Fine," she muttered, trying to sound braver than she felt. "But if I end up with a broken bone, you’re explaining it to everyone."

"I’d rather not anger anyone," he said with mock gravity. "So let’s make sure that doesn’t happen."

"Good plan."

"On three?"

She nodded, shifting her weight and curling her toes in her boots against the bark. Her palms were slick. The ground below felt impossibly far.

"One," Orion said softly, his voice steady and unhurried.

Sophia’s breath hitched.

"Two."

Her heart was beating too fast, her mind screaming that this was reckless, absurd, terrifying.

"Three."

She jumped.

For a suspended second, everything froze...the wind rushing against her face, the world spinning in a blur of leaves and starlight. Then, strong arms caught her midair, pulling her safely into solid warmth.

Her breath rushed out in a sharp gasp. The scent of him filled her lungs. For a heartbeat, she didn’t move.

"I told you," he murmured, voice low and close to her ear, "I’d catch you."

Sophia looked up at him, eyes wide, chest still heaving from the rush. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, the hint of a smile that wasn’t smug, just... real.

The air between them tightened.

Something unspoken hung there...fragile, heavy, impossible to name. She realized, too late, that she was still in his arms.

Her throat went dry.

"Well," she said quickly, forcing the words out. "You were... lucky."

He blinked, and then, with maddening composure, said, "I was right."

She scowled to hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Don’t push it."

He chuckled, the sound low, vibrating through his chest.

Sophia slipped from his grasp, boots finding the earth again. Her pulse hadn’t settled yet and her hands trembled slightly, though she masked it by dusting off her trousers.

The forest had grown still around them again, only the distant murmur of night creatures breaking the silence. She stole a quick glance at Orion, standing there like nothing had happened, calm and assured, as though catching her had been as natural as breathing.

She hated how steady he made her feel.

"You really thought I’d let you fall?" he asked suddenly, not teasing now, but genuinely curious.

Sophia hesitated. "You make it sound simple. Trust isn’t something that just... happens."

He nodded slowly. "No. But it grows, if you let it."

She met his eyes for a moment...really met them...and felt the words settle somewhere deep, where she didn’t dare look too closely.

Then she cleared her throat, turning abruptly. "Come on," she said, pretending she hadn’t just fallen into a heartbeat-long moment that threatened to unravel her. "We should head back to the compound. The festival awaits."

That earned her a quiet laugh.

They started walking side by side, the forest floor soft beneath their steps. For a while, neither spoke. The moonlight slanted through the branches, brushing silver over the leaves and the faint trail leading back toward the compound.