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.
