I needed a man.

Like having to attend the black tie Christmas party for my company wasn’t enough—now I had to bring a date? A male date. Why? I’d never needed a date before. Leigh thought it best since the owners of the publishing house were flying in and she wanted me to pitch the new project to our publisher, Mr. Carlyle. Annie attended all house events with me in-state and out, but now Leigh claimed it’d be better if it were a man? She didn’t want me feeling “out of place,” since everyone else at the table was bringing their spouse. Like I cared? Sexist and uncalled for. Annie was my go-to. But I’d have to argue more with Leigh later. I couldn’t think about that now.

Shouts and instructions echoed throughout the Krav Maga studio I trained at. The sounds of fists against flesh and bodies hitting the mat thundered through the small space. Energy hummed through the air, the tension palpable. The five people in house tonight were getting ready to test for their black belts tomorrow with Instructor Kovov. I was supposed to be a part of that group. I’d made the smart call and opted out of testing, not wanting to risk my knee.

But Instructor Kovov had still asked me to come early today and now had me waiting until after classes. I dragged a hand down my face and readjusted my chair, trying not to appear frustrated. Flurries of arms and legs flew and landed in different patterns, non-stop reevaluations of threatening situations determined in split-seconds—that was the beauty of Krav Maga. The core principles constantly changed and were cutting edge, forcing you to stay sharp.

As training ended and the last student left the studio, Instructor Kovov waved me over to his office.

Finally. I calmed with every indentation of my feet on the padded black mats lining the studio floor. Even empty, the intense energy lingered as if permeating the air.

“Close the door, Toni.” Instructor Kovov nodded to the door and wiped his face with a towel. “You see the men and women who just left?”

Was this a trick question?

“You had me wait until they finished, sir. Of course.”

“They were at full strength. No injuries and they’re mentally prepared to test tomorrow.” He sat down behind his desk. There was no escaping Instructor Kovov’s wrath tonight.

My chest sunk as I let out a long breath. “I know I can’t test, which is why I opted out the other night. I know my knee isn’t at one hundred percent.”

“You’ve been training with me now for what? Five years?”

I stretched my fingers out wide, before gripping the arms of the chair. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ve been doing this over twenty years. I’m good at what I do.” It wasn’t a boastful claim; he was simply stating a fact. Instructor Kovov was the best around. It was why I'd sought him out. To be the best, you train with the best. “The reason I know when students are mentally ready for the next belt, specifically black, is because I read well. I read opponents and my students.” He offered me a bottle of water he’d pulled from the little refrigerator by his desk.

I waved him off. “No, thank you.” Trying my best not to squirm under his scrutiny, I slowed my breathing down. I was getting a paternal vibe from Instructor Kovov, so I hoped there was a point coming soon. I was pissed I couldn’t test, already had overprotective parents and I still had a boss to argue with.

“If I hadn’t pushed you a few days ago,” he said. “If I hadn’t forced you through holds and releases until your knee gave, you’d have tested tomorrow. Am I wrong?”

He knew me well without knowing anything about my past. Straightening in my chair, I met his steady gaze a little embarrassed, because I’d known better. “Yes, sir. I’d have tested.”

He nodded and sat back in his chair. “And you’d have failed,” he said softly.

“With all respect, sir, you don’t know that.” I’d drilled well the other day, before he kept me an hour and a half longer than anyone else, “just to be sure.” When the knee gave out, I knew I couldn’t make it through a full eight-hour black belt test, and while I despised having to do it, I’d made the safe call. He should have been proud of me, not frowning.

He ran his long, tapered fingers along his jaw. “It’s not the knee I’m worried about. Your knee has healed well. You proved that the other day—I pushed you on purpose, because you’re stubborn. It’s smart not to test, I agree with your decision, but had you tried and the knee by some chance held up, you’d have still failed the attack from behind. Again.”

I rubbed the back of my dampening neck before folding my arms in front of me. “Instructor Kovov, you can’t be sure I wouldn’t pass.” The air in the tiny office became dense. My chest tightened like I’d just gotten done with chest day at the gym.

“I am,” he said, with so much confidence my heart sank. “Let me ask you something—why do you hesitate in testing, but not in practice? I’ve seen you get out of that hold, change the momentum to your advantage, put men twice your size on the ground more times than I can count, yet you hesitate in a test environment. It’s not the physical skill. You have that. You’re fast, think quickly, react on instinct, and you never quit. What about that attack stops you?” His fierce, dark brown eyes studied my every movement.

I was sure classified, government black-site interrogations went something like this. We were just missing the huge spotlight, some water boarding, and a few more men with masks. “I’m not sure what this is about Instructor Kov—”

“It’s about you defending yourself in real time, when it counts. Your hesitation, twice now in a test situation, speaks to something deeper than physical ability.”

Great. Now Instructor Kovov was turning into Dr. Rhodes? I glanced behind me. How close was that door? Because right then, all I wanted to do was run outside so I could breathe correctly. Stop everything that kept me balanced from tipping. I rearranged my legs in the chair. When a metallic taste flooded my mouth, I let go of my bottom lip.

“As your instructor, it’s my privilege to teach you, make you stronger, keep you safe.”

I sat up straighter. I respected my Instructor more than most people. Beyond his skill, he was a good man and cared about his students. I couldn’t disappoint him. “I’ll do better. I’m—”

Lifting the hand resting on his desk, he cut me off. “In my experience, when this happens with students, it’s something they’re not consciously aware of. To pass, you need to isolate the problem and work through it. It’s not physical with you. It’s commitment.”

I nearly flew out of my chair. I righted myself quickly, not wanting to be disrespectful, but I wouldn’t have my commitment questioned, not even by a master like Kovov. “Are you saying you don’t believe I’m committed to Krav Maga?” I trained harder than anyone—I had to.

His chest rose on a deep inhale as if I was trying his patience. “As far as instruction, work ethic, and physical ability, you’re my top student. The physical movements have become muscle memory for you. You physically adapt to fluid and changing situations exceptionally well, because you understand no two situations are the same. You must be mentally committed and you’re not. Figure it out before you test again.”

“I can’t test next round? Again? Instructor Kovov, I—need to be here. I need to train.”

He stood and came around the desk in front of me, leaning his ass against the desktop. He studied me closely, his scrutiny so intense I squirmed in my seat. “I said I don’t want you to test. I didn’t say I don’t want you to train. You used the word ‘need.’ Why do you need this?”

All I could do was stare up at him, before I found my voice. “I—I just do.”

“Not good enough. Until you know the catalyst, you’re not testing.” He sighed and leaned down so we were eye-level. “Need speaks to something deeper.

I had nothing. He was right. But I couldn’t tell him why. After the flashback with Dr. Rhodes, I knew the catalyst, which meant I needed conquer this more than anything. I could do this without having to disclose my past to him. I just needed to work harder. Focus more.

My temples throbbed as I watched him walk back behind the desk and sit down. The question bothered me. Why did I need it? I was already highly trained. I had a third-degree black belt in Jiu Jitsu. I held all belts except black in Krav Maga. So why was black my Holy Grail?

A belt doesn’t guarantee I’ll never be attacked, but it guarantees I’ll never be weak again. I’ll be trained at the highest level to fight right there, with everything I have, or die trying. I’d have a full arsenal. In which case, yes. I need it.

Instructor Kovov leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Identify your fear and move beyond it. Whatever it is, study it, learn it, and analyze it from all angles. I can’t teach you that—it comes from within. Trust in your skill and fight in the present moment. Now go home and I’ll see you next week. Thank you for staying.”

I nodded to him. “Of course. Thank you, sir.” I rose from the chair, bowed to him with my arms at my side as a sign of respect and thanks. He cared and he didn’t have to.

Who noticed shit this deep, this intense, except Kovov?

When I arrived at my car, I rested my arms on the roof for a second before getting in. The streetlights cast a hazy glow around the empty lot and the wind whipped my hair across my face. It was one of those moments where I didn’t feel grounded. It was like everything stable in my world was tilting, and I couldn’t stop it from tipping over.