Everything went fuzzy at those words. He felt sick. Ronin’s voice became distant. Unintelligible. Yet the voices in his head became considerably louder.

You should’ve expected this.

Now you’ll have to find another day job.

So much for loyalty. No different from when you were in the army, where you had to suck up to the brass only to get a boot to the face.

How can you face the rest of the staff? How will they react to your demotion? Will they laugh? Whisper behind your back?

Why didn’t she tell you this was coming?

Because she wants to rule you inside and outside the dojo.

Break it off with her. Then she’ll return to Japan and things won’t change. You’ll retain your title and your job.

But I love her.

Does she love you? She hasn’t admitted it.

Or are you just her plaything?

As your Mistress she’s supposed to do what’s best for you. Then shouldn’t she leave the dojo to make you happy?

“Knox?”

Knox blinked and looked at Ronin leaning across the desk. “Yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

“Surprised, but that’s expected.”

“Look—”

“No need to keep explaining.” Knox stood. “In fact, I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Fair enough.” Ronin fell back in his chair. “But think about what I said.”

I don’t even know what the fuck you said because I was too goddamn deafened from hearing the pieces of my life crashing around me.

Knox walked out. He cut through the hallway and forced himself not to run down the stairs and out of the dojo.

He unlocked his truck and climbed in. His destination was the closest liquor store. Once inside, he went straight for the cheap stuff. Better get used to pinching pennies now that he was unemployed.

Fuck.

He’d parked at his house, locked the door behind him, and got his drink on. Hard-core.

So he deserved this motherfucking cocksucker of a hangover because he didn’t remember anything after he hit the three-quarters-of-a-bottle mark.

Wait. He had a vague recollection of Shiori . . . standing in his kitchen glaring at him? Had she really been here? Or had it been another hallucination?

If he concentrated really hard—to the point it hurt his fucking brain—then he could sort of remember talking to her, congratulating her. Her pulling that Domme voice and attitude. Then . . . nothing. They could’ve had a fight. She could’ve tucked him in after he’d hugged the toilet.

No. He remembered crawling to his bed after the second time.

He shuffled to the bathroom and popped four Excedrin. Then he hauled his dragging ass into the shower and let the hot water beat down on him.

After Knox toweled off, he brushed his teeth and dressed himself, feeling somewhat better.

But still bitter. That wouldn’t go away as quickly as his hangover.

When he couldn’t find his phone in the house, he trekked outside and found it lodged in the passenger seat of his truck. Barely enough juice to check his messages.

None from Shiori. One from Ronin. About ten minutes ago. When he scrolled to his voice messages screen and pressed play, his phone went completely dead.

Fucking great.

Then again, he couldn’t deal with Ronin today. The least the man could do was allow him some time to process this shit. The male pride part of him said he didn’t have to jump when Master Black called anymore since he wasn’t his second-in-command.

The last thing Knox needed today was face time in the dojo—with Sensei, the new Shihan, his fellow instructors, or even his students. He had to get the hell away. Clear his head, his lungs, his heart.

That forced him to stop. Was that really what he wanted? To shut Shiori out of his life?

No. The very thought of that made his stomach churn. No doubt they’d have to talk about how this dojo status change would affect the status quo in their personal relationship.

But that was another thing he couldn’t deal with today. Especially after he had no clue how he’d acted toward her last night.

Fuck. He really, really had to get gone for a bit.

In the five years he’d been part of Black Arts, he’d never not shown up to teach his classes.

There was a first time for everything.

Knox packed his fishing and camping gear, figuring he’d stop for food on the way out of town. He wasn’t running away; he was reevaluating.

Twenty-four hours later . . .

So maybe he was slightly stinky after being out in the wild, but he needed to see Shiori. He imagined she’d be pissed and demand to whip his ass for staying out of touch for a day and a half. But he felt calmer about the situation. Clearer.