When it was Cain's turn, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding Raneisha lounging on a velvet couch.
Her sharp eyes flickered up to him, a mask of indifference on her face. She barely looked interested, her hand lazily gesturing for him to start.
"You may begin," she said, as if yesterday's confrontation had been nothing but a forgotten dream.
Cain felt his jaw tighten. The sting of her kick from their last encounter still hung in the air, but he swallowed it down.
This wasn't about their personal battle; this was about proving himself. Slowly, he uncrumpled the sheet of music in his hand, but instead of focusing on the notes, he let the rhythm of his heartbeat guide him.
Closing his eyes for a brief second, he steadied his breath. His voice, newly found and deeper than before, came out with a gravelly edge — rough yet stirring.
It wasn't the polished tone he used to have, but something raw, something honest. Something that mirrored the struggle and strength he'd built over the weeks.
As he began to sing, the lyrics flowed out of him like a slow, burning flame.
Falling through the cracks of the city lights,
Shadows chase me, but I won't hide,
With every step, I'll rise again,
Cause the fire in my soul won't end . . .
The hoarseness in his voice gave each word weight, as if every note was scraped from somewhere deep within him.
It was more than just a song — it was an anthem of survival. His tone wasn't perfect, but it was raw, commanding attention.
Raneisha's bored expression flickered for a moment. She leaned forward slightly, the faintest trace of curiosity in her gaze as Cain continued.
They said I'd never make it out alive,
But I've been down too long to die,
As much as he hated to admit it, she was the reason he'd finally tapped into that deeper, rawer sound inside him — the one that had always been there but just out of reach.
Still, the memory of her boot slamming into his groin flashed through his mind, the pain all too vivid. That humiliation lingered, an invisible bruise to his pride.
Cain clenched his fists slightly at the thought. Yeah, she'd helped him find his voice, but that kick? He wasn't letting that slide.
"I'll give her this — she knows her stuff. But I'm still not done with her," he thought. That payback was coming, even if he had to play the long game.
Raneisha might be the Queen, but Cain wasn't about to bow to anyone.
Cain shifted slightly, his mind absorbing her words. He knew his voice wasn't perfect, but it was all he had right now.
"What do you mean by refinement?" he asked, his voice steady despite the knot of frustration building inside him.
Raneisha didn't seem fazed by his question. In fact, she almost smiled, like she'd been waiting for it. "You need to learn how to play with your voice. Right now, you're just singing loud because you think it'll make you sound strong, but that's not how it works."
She stood up suddenly, walking over to him with a fluid grace. Her presence was intimidating up close, but Cain held his ground.
"Your voice has layers, C.C. There's more to it than just the roughness. You need to find those layers and use them to your advantage. Play with softness, explore quieter moments. Learn how to pull the listener in with subtlety instead of blasting them away with volume."
Her words struck a chord. Cain had believed that power and intensity were what made his voice stand out, but now she was challenging him to think differently.
"Let me give you an example." Raneisha stepped closer, gesturing for him to watch.
She hummed a low note, deep and soft at first, and then slowly, she built on it — adding a gentle vibrato, letting it rise in intensity but keeping it controlled, almost effortless.
"You see? There's tension in the quiet moments, a build-up. If you start loud, you have nowhere to go. But if you start soft, you create anticipation."
Cain listened intently, nodding slowly as he began to understand. "So, it's not just about power," he muttered.
"Yes," Raneisha replied. "It's about contrast. Light and shade. You need to give people a reason to stay interested, to wonder what's coming next. If you learn to master that balance, you'll keep them on edge, waiting for more."
She stepped back, folding her arms as if the lesson was over. "Work on it. You've got potential, but it's up to you whether you make people listen or tune out."