Interviews Hunger Games Novels & Stories

Chapter Fifty-One: Tear Me Apart Hawkins' POV "You have an interview with Press Mag at ten later, Mr. Pride." Lizzie reminded me as she listed my agenda for today and I groaned under my breath. "I hate interviews." I grumbled, but remembered I was in a good mood today. "But it can be good for our exposure. I mean, a short interview wouldn't hurt, right?"

The entrance was hidden within an ancient stone structure, vines curling around the archway. Cassian glanced at Lena. “Let me do the talking.” She nodded. They stepped inside. The corridor led downward, spiraling into the earth. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the walls, pulsing like a heartbeat. Then— Figures emerged from the shadows. Cloaked figures, their faces obscured. Cassian stepped forward. “We seek an audience.” One of the figures stepped closer. “The Coven does not take visitors.” Dorian exhaled sharply. “This isn’t a visit. We need answers.”

The interviewer is Jane Wilson a popular interviewer, she had interviewed a lot of popular people who in line of entertainment and sports. “Good afternoon, Gideon” Jane greeted me with a smile as she sat next to me on the couch but further away. “Good afternoon, Jane” I smiled back at her. “The interview will begin soon, I assume that you have read the questions before hand” “Yes, yes.” I answered, I didn't really read, insteadi just skimmed through it waiting for Maren's response. “Okay, without further ado—” My phone beeps, “please a second” I said to her, taking out my phone out my pocket.

She could feel the weight of the interviewers' eyes on her, analyzing her every move. Merrick and William leaned over the table, poring over the resumes and applications of the next set of candidates with intense focus. They analyzed each candidate's work experience, education, and skills, trying to determine who would be the best fit for the jobs. As they were deep in their analysis, the high-level interviewers asked the candidates to introduce themselves one by one. The first candidate spoke confidently, followed by the second, third, and fourth. Merrick and William listened carefully, taking notes and assessing each candidate's strengths and weaknesses. However, when the fifth candidate i

I just assumed he would pick the one who came second. "Okay Ladies. The order of your interviews will be selected at random." I watch William pick up a small box from the table. Opening it, he reads. "Astrid, please come take a seat. Ladies, we request that you stand and wait your turn, but keep the noise down to avoid disrupting the filming." He walks away, and the women begin to sit. Moving, I join them and feel eyes on me. Alpha Prime Darius is staring at me. I notice Alpha Kellan is whispering in his ear. So he's talking about me, I am guessing? I watch Astrid as she is interviewed. She seems to be doing well. Twenty minutes later, she stands and joins us.

My stomach dropped. "What?" He nodded. "I hired investigators to find you after you dared to run from me that morning. It took them a week to find you." Something was slamming hard against my rib cage in a really violent way. I knew what it was. My heart. "I found out who you were—Matteo Leone, a twenty three year old bisexual man, living in your father's house like a prisoner." He leaned forward slightly. "I learned everything about you—your urm... useless family, and your situation within hours of funding you."

“Good Morning, darling. I bought you pasta for breakfast. The interview will only be held here in your condo since the media is so eager to hear your side, I concluded that the best place to held an interview is here. Is it fine with you?” I just nodded and smiled sweetly before eating the pasta. * * * “So, what are your jobs before you applied here?” I stared at the man in front me that is almost drooling. I smiled awkwardly at him. “Next!”, I heard Mommy Iya's voice shouted. “Mommy, seriously? Where did you get those freaks?” Mommy Iya just shrugged before welcoming the next guy. “Lukas Kramer, right?”, I asked. He nodded that made me let out a sigh.

He had not expected her to cross to the small brazier in the corner, set a clay pot over it, and ask him whether he took anything in it. "I don't need to eat," he said. "I wasn't asking what you needed," she said. "I was asking what you wanted." He sat on the low bench along one wall. She brought him a cup, then sat across from him on the floor — cross-legged, as if she'd been interrupted mid-meditation and simply resumed — and wrapped both hands around her own cup and looked at him over the rim. "Tell me about being fallen," she said. Not what did you do wrong. Not how do you get your power back. Just tell me what it's like.