The studio didn't look like Liam expected.
No neon lights. No gold plaques.Just a worn-out couch, foam-covered walls, and the faint scent of coffee and vinyl records.
Standing at the soundboard was a man with a backward cap, silver piercings, and tattoos that told more stories than his words ever could.
Ace Maddox.
"L.C.," he said without turning around, "You look like someone who'd rather be anywhere else."
Liam stepped inside, calm but watchful. "I'd rather be where the sound is real."
Ace finally turned. Grinned.
"Good answer."
The First Session
They didn't talk business.
No contracts. No pressure.
Just music.
Ace tossed Liam a guitar. "Play what you played at Echo. But slower. Let it breathe."
Liam adjusted the mic. Fingers on strings. Voice raw and unfiltered.
And Ace? He didn't interrupt. Didn't correct. Just listened.
When Liam finished, there was a long silence.
Then:
"You write like you've bled before," Ace muttered. "That's good. That's rare."
Unfiltered Feedback
They spent the next hour dissecting lyrics.
Not changing them—understanding them.
"Don't rhyme for rhyme's sake," Ace said. "People don't remember rhymes. They remember lines that hurt."
He paused. "That one line—'I sing because silence failed me'? That's your hook. That's your identity."
Liam nodded. Quiet. Focused. Absorbing.
This wasn't school.
This was alchemy.
Outside the Studio – Nightfall
Nova waited by the bus stop, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as Liam approached.
"Well?" she asked.
Liam smiled. Tired. Wired. Alive.
"I didn't just record a track today," he said. "I found someone who speaks my language."
End of Chapter 9