The instructors all seemed to grow a few inches in stature and breadth as they pivoted to stare expectantly at Grundy. Peevy spoke for all of them. “This true, Grundy?”

“Fuck no.”

“You gonna add lying to your long list of character flaws?” Peevy asked quietly.

“It’s my word against hers!” Grundy exploded.

Peevy nodded solemnly. “That is true. Thing is, she’s the one who was kidnapped, escaped, trekked through the Mojave Desert evading Spetsnaz operators, and capped it off by diving into a fight against said operators to help out Caldwell. That gives her word a certain weight that yours lacks.”

Griffin spoke up. His voice was so cold it sent shivers down Sherri’s spine. “Lieutenant Tate overheard her kidnappers talking about their inside man here at BUD/S. If we have our research people dig into your life, Grundy, are we gonna find some funny money in a bank account, maybe a gambling problem or some blackmail pictures of you lying around? Are you the one who threw me and Tate under the bus? Did Abu Haddad’s guys get to you?”

The bluster went out of Grundy all at once. His shoulders drooped, and his entire body seemed to fold in on itself.

Ray Peevy stepped forward and wrenched Grundy’s arms behind his back. Someone handed Ray a zip tie, which he secured around Grundy’s wrists. “You’re under arrest, Grundy. Do not say anything until the military police arrive and can properly inform you of your rights.”

“What’s gonna happen to him?” one of the trainees in the back of the crowd asked.

Peevy replied, “We’re going to get a full written confession from him, and there are some intelligence analysts who will want to speak with him before he ships out for Fort Leavenworth.”

Sherri winced. Leavenworth was the military’s federal prison.

She glanced around and realized that every single man in the mess hall—trainee or SEAL—was staring at Grundy with silently damning eyes.

Peevy took a long look around the assemblage and then locked stares with Grundy. “Look around, my friend. You’ve been judged and found lacking. You’re not one of us.”

“This is your fault, Tate—” Grundy started.

Griffin snarled, “Ray told you not to talk. If you value your life, Grundy, take the man’s advice.”

The SEALs nearest to her subtly shifted positions until they formed a solid wall of protective bodies around her.

A pair of military police came in and took custody of Grundy, reading him his rights as they marched him out of the chow hall. Sherri watched them load Grundy in the back of a squad car and pull away.