Behind The Glass: The Viktor Riddles Interview

Page 1 — “The Assignment” Aurora Hale never believed a classroom could feel like a cage, but that morning, something about Room 214 pressed against her ribs like invisible steel bars. The buzzing fluorescent lights, the murmuring voices of her classmates, the stale smell of old textbooks—it all wrapped around her in a way that felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was because she’d barely slept. Or maybe it was because she sensed something was coming. Something big. Something she couldn’t yet name. She sat in her usual seat—second row, third desk—legs crossed, back straight, her notebook open and perfectly blank. She always wrote fast, but never before a lesson. She liked the empty page. It reminded her that she could fill it with whatever she damn well wanted. Her pen tapped the edge of the paper as students trickled in through the door, chattering about the upcoming journalism project. Everyone was nervous. Everyone except her. Aurora Hale didn’t do nervous. The door swung open again, and in walked Mr. Carter—thin, pale, slightly hunched, the kind of man who always looked like he was carrying a secret but would rather jump off a bridge than actually share it. His eyes flicked across the classroom, sharp and restless, landing on Aurora for a moment too long before he cleared his throat. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, voice tight. “I hope you’re ready. Today, we assign your semester-long interview subjects.” A collective groan rolled through the room. Aurora smirked. Everyone else dreaded the assignment. She lived for it. “Each of you,” Carter continued, “will conduct a series of interviews with a member of the public. The goal is to understand the human story behind the person you choose.” He lifted a stack of envelopes and passed them down each row. “You’ll draw your assigned subject. No trades, no negotiations.” One by one, students ripped theirs open, whispering names—local business owners, retired athletes, hospital volunteers, former soldiers. Easy profiles. Satisfying. Predictable. Aurora’s envelope waited at the corner of her desk, light as air yet oddly intimidating. She slid her finger under the seal and peeled it open. There was only one line inside. Viktor Riddles — Maximum Security, Blackridge Correctional Facility Her heart didn’t drop. It didn’t spike. It simply stalled in a single, suspended beat, as if she needed an extra second to process what she was seeing. Viktor Riddles. The most feared man in the country. The man whose name lived in headlines, police reports, whispered rumors, and stories told by criminals who’d rather chew glass than cross him. Drug trafficking. Murder. Organized crime. Human smuggling. Illegal weapons. Extortion. And that was just what they could prove. Aurora blinked once. Twice. But the name stayed. She reread it slowly, tasting each syllable like a dare. Viktor. Riddles. It didn’t make sense. Why would a college journalism student be assigned to interview someone like that? Other students were writing cute little profiles on grocery store clerks and retired firefighters. She was being handed the devil. She looked up at Mr. Carter. He was already looking at her. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between expectation and fear. He gave a curt nod, almost too subtle for anyone else to notice. Aurora straightened her shoulders. So he did this on purpose. A rush of something—excitement? anger? anticipation?—flooded her chest. Being told she couldn’t do something only made her want to do it more. And being handed the most dangerous man alive on a slip of paper felt like a challenge carved in bone. “Uh… Mr. Carter?” A girl in the back raised her hand nervously. “Is this safe? I mean… someone like Viktor Riddles… isn’t that more of a police assignment than a journalism one?” Laughter scattered around the room, but Aurora didn’t join in. Carter’s eyes didn’t leave her as he answered. “All interviews will occur under strict supervision inside the prison. You’ll be safe. As long as you follow the rules.” He said the last line slowly. Directed at her. Aurora arched a brow. Safe? She wasn’t worried about being safe. She was worried about why her professor—a man who couldn’t even handle a malfunctioning projector—wanted her to sit across from Viktor Riddles, of all people. She closed the envelope and tucked it neatly into her notebook. The edges felt sharper than paper should, as if the name alone could cut skin. A few classmates looked at her with wide eyes—some impressed, some horrified, some convinced she’d die before midterms. “Damn, Aurora,” Jason whispered at her side. “You got him? The Viktor Riddles?” She shrugged. “Looks like it.” “You’re actually going to go?” he asked. She met his gaze evenly. “Why wouldn’t I?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Because he’s a psychopath? He owns half the criminal underworld? He once set a warehouse on fire just to send a message?” Aurora closed her notebook, tapping it lightly. “People say a lot of things,” she replied. “My job is to hear it from him.” Jason stared. “You’re unbelievable.” Aurora smiled. She knew. When class ended, she slipped out into the hallway, the crowd buzzing around her, every footstep echoing oddly in her ears. She walked with steady, measured confidence, but her mind spun like a storm. Why her? She wasn’t the top student in the class. She wasn’t the one with connections. She didn’t have the soft, empathetic personality that teachers usually drooled over for human-interest pieces. But she was fearless. Determined. Brutally honest. And she never backed down. Maybe that was why. Or maybe Mr. Carter was hiding something—and Aurora was about to be thrown into the middle of it. She didn’t know. But she intended to find out. She exited the building and stepped into the chilled morning air. The sky was overcast, heavy gray clouds smothering any hint of sunlight. The entire city felt weighed down, as if holding its breath. Aurora pulled out her phone and typed the name into her search bar. Viktor Riddles. Articles flashed instantly—hundreds of them. “Youngest Crime Lord in National History Arrested” “Riddles Empire Crumbles After Betrayal by Inner Circle” “Viktor Riddles: Criminal Genius or Born Monster?” “Murder Trial: New Evidence Questions Original Verdict” She scrolled past photos of him—mugshots, courtroom footage, blurry shots taken in the shadows of nightclubs. Even in the grainy images, his eyes were unmistakable. Cold. Sharp. Intelligent. A storm behind a locked gate. Some photos caught him mid-smirk, a ghost of arrogance twisting his mouth. Others showed him expressionless, carved from stone. In every image, he radiated the kind of confidence that came from knowing no one could touch him. Until someone finally did. Aurora exhaled slowly. This assignment was a storm waiting for her. A dark, dangerous one. And someone clearly wanted her walking straight into the center of it. She slipped her phone back into her pocket and walked toward her car. The sky drizzled faintly, cool droplets brushing her cheeks like warnings. But Aurora Hale didn’t do warnings. She opened her car door—then paused. Across the parking lot, Mr. Carter stood in the shadow of a building, talking on his phone. His back was turned, but something about his posture—tense, rigid—made her linger. “…Yes,” he whispered. “She’ll do it. She agreed.” Aurora narrowed her eyes. Agreed? She hadn’t agreed to anything yet. Mr. Carter continued, voice strained. “No. She has no idea who she’s dealing with. Neither does she know why he’ll talk to her. But he will.” A chill crept up Aurora’s spine—not out of fear, but out of something colder. Something sharper. She pressed her fingers lightly against her car door, leaning closer without making a sound. “Yes,” Carter whispered. “She’s perfect for him.” Perfect for him. Aurora’s pulse tightened—not racing, but narrowing into something focused, precise. So this wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t random. Someone wanted her in that room. Someone wanted her in front of Viktor Riddles. But why? She didn’t know yet. But she would learn. She always learned. Aurora climbed into her car, started the engine, and stared ahead at the blurred reflection of herself in the windshield. She wasn’t afraid. She was curious. And curiosity had carried her through every fire she’d ever walked into. She was going to interview Viktor Riddles. And she was going to find out what Mr. Carter wasn’t telling her. What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t know—was that Viktor Riddles had already heard her name. And that he had been waiting.