The Promotion

CHAPTER 4: THE PROMOTION

Sam’s POV

I stepped into our cramped  room and shut the door quietly behind me. Eli was already sitting on the edge of the bunk, polishing his worn-out boots. The moment he saw me, his head snapped up.

“You were gone long,” he said cautiously, eyes narrowing. “What happened? Why did the Master summon you?”

I didn’t respond at first. I still couldn’t believe what had just happened. My thoughts were spinning faster than I could keep up with. Finally, I let out a half-laugh, half-sigh and looked at him.

“You’re not going to believe this,” I said, voice low. “Teddy — that guy they all seem to shiver around — he told me I’d be working in the upper chambers from now on.”

Eli’s hand froze mid-polish. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine. The color seemed to drain from his face. The usual calm expression he wore dropped away, leaving behind something unreadable. Worry. Fear. Dread.

“What?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“You heard me.” I dropped onto the lower bunk, rubbing my face with my palms. “Apparently, I’m too special to shovel garbage now. Fancy, right?”

Eli didn’t say anything immediately. He got up and walked toward the tiny sink in the corner, splashing some water on his face. I watched him closely.

“Is there something wrong with that?” I asked, sitting straighter. “You don’t look like you’re happy for me.”

Eli grabbed the thin towel hanging on the wall and wiped his face. His eyes met mine in the cracked mirror’s reflection.

“You need to be careful,” he said. “Especially around Teddy. And Delilah.”

“Why?” I frowned.

“Because nothing good ever comes from being noticed here. You think they give promotions because of your charm or skills?” he scoffed. “They pick favorites. And favorites either rise fast or burn out faster.”

That made me pause.

“I thought maybe—” I started, then stopped. What did I think? That this might lead me closer to a way out? That I’d use this chance to figure out how to escape? Maybe. But I didn’t say that out loud.

“You’ll see,” Eli muttered. “Just watch your back.”

Before I could say more, the alarm buzzed sharply — the signal for training to begin. We quickly put on our uniforms and stepped out into the dusty compound yard, joining the rows of other exhausted recruits.

Max Riel was already there, standing in front of the line. He looked disinterested until his eyes locked on mine.

He stared. Not in the way you look at a slave, or a disobedient recruit. No, it was something else. Calculating. Quietly assessing. Like I was some rare specimen.

I quickly looked away.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Eli muttered under his breath beside me. “Max likes to punish arrogance.”

I nodded slightly and focused on the gravel beneath my boots.

After a few rounds of grueling drills, the gate to the inner court opened. Gaston stepped out, holding an envelope, followed closely by Delilah, dressed in tight black leather from neck to heel, eyes covered in dark shades — and, finally, Teddy.

The training stopped immediately. Everyone stood frozen as the three figures approached. Their presence turned the air cold, like shadows had swallowed the sun.

Gaston stepped forward.

“There’s an event approaching,” he announced, voice booming across the courtyard. “Something grand. But I’ll let the boss give you the details.”

He turned slightly and nodded at Teddy, who took a slow step forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over all of us. When his eyes passed over me, he paused for half a second, then continued like it never happened.

“Two days from now,” Teddy began, “we will host The Crimson Selection. It’s not a game, and it’s not for entertainment. It's a tradition, older than most of you, older than this compound.”

I felt Eli tense beside me.

Teddy’s voice deepened. “Only the most resilient, promising, and disciplined recruits will be chosen. Your performance in the coming days will determine if you're worthy of placement... or disposal.”

He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Only a predator’s amusement.

“Dismissed,” he said simply, and just like that, they turned and left.

As we filed back into the training formation, I glanced sideways at Eli.

“What’s the Crimson Selection?” I asked quietly.

Eli didn’t look at me.

“Hope you never find out,” he whispered.

____

 Teddy’s POV

"Samuel," I said, tone smooth but firm. "You’ll be accompanying Delilah and me to the gala this evening."

He blinked, confused. "I thought I was... labor?"

"You are now elevated," I said. "Your face will be covered. You’ll appear as a bodyguard,nothing more. Speak to no one. Follow only me. Understood?"

He nodded, his jaw tense.

The drive to the surface was quiet. Samuel sat across from Delilah and me in the limo, face obscured by the smooth black mask I had chosen for him. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t speak. But I could feel his eyes. Watching everything.

I admired that.

The gala was held at one of our private estates. Decadence poured from every corner, white marble floors, strings of violin music, men and women in silk and sequins. Power was currency here, and tonight, I was rich.

Samuel stood a few feet behind me, statuesque, his gaze constantly moving. I could tell he was memorizing everything, the positions of guards, the exits, the movement patterns. He was smart. Dangerous, even.

Exactly how I like them.

Delilah noticed too. She sipped champagne and leaned toward me. "He’s too observant."

"That’s what makes him interesting."

"Or a liability," she snapped, her gaze cutting.

I ignored her. For now.

The night passed in a blur of toasts, whispered alliances, and flattery. I was speaking with a French investor when I felt it , a ripple in the air. A tremor of wrongness.

Then came the blast.

Shouts. Glass breaking. Chaos.

Gunfire erupted from the eastern wing, and my security moved in a blur.

"Stay behind me," I ordered Delilah, but she was already gone, ducking under a table.

I turned, and there he was. Samuel. Mask still on, looking between me and the intruders.

"Down!" someone screamed.

But instead of hiding, he moved toward me.

Then it happened.

A shot cracked through the air.

Something hot burned across my shoulder.

Blood. Mine.

I winced but didn’t go down. Instead, I turned and shoved Samuel to the ground behind one of the marble pillars.

"You okay?" he asked.

"You were supposed to protect me, not the other way around," I gritted.

But he helped me anyway.

The attackers were neutralized within minutes. My security was efficient, brutal. I’d trained them myself. By the time silence fell over the hall again, bodies were already being dragged away, and my bleeding had slowed to a dull throb.

Samuel crouched beside me, face unreadable.

For a moment, I wanted to laugh. This kid ,defiant, sarcastic, barely trained, had somehow ended up at the center of a billion-dollar warzone and lived.

And I had taken a bullet for him.

I didn’t even regret it.

Not yet.