Cal explained, “Not only do we have to get the ladies physically and mentally toughened up for Phase I of BUD/S, but we need to teach them the swimming and diving skills they’ll need for Phase II, and the land warfare skills they’ll need for Phase III.”

“It takes six months to run all three phases of BUD/S!” Grif protested. “Are you seriously going to sideline all of us for that long to train these wannabes?”

Kettering rounded on him sharply. “I’m under orders to create a female SEAL, come hell or high water. Do you want her to be a liability to a team and get her fellow SEALs killed, or do you want her to pull her weight and be, if not an asset, at least not a liability?”

“Jeebus Crispy,” Axel muttered. “Orders? For real?”

Kettering glared at all of them. “For real. Straight from SECDEF.”

Trevor whistled under his breath and traded alarmed looks with Griffin. The Secretary of Defense herself was behind this little fiasco? There went any quiet washing out of the female candidates.

Grif argued, “But if the first woman SEAL is only going to be window dressing, who cares if she can hack the job?”

Cal started to roll his eyes but stopped himself. “She’ll undoubtedly be sent out on a mission or two with a gaggle of reporters in tow. She has to at least put on a show of being SEAL material.”

Griffin suddenly shared Kettering’s urge to roll his eyes.

Cal sighed. “We can train these women up to some sort of decent standard, or we can throw one of them onto the teams unprepared and untrained with the knowledge that she’ll be a danger to her teammates. Either way, a woman’s going to be wearing a Budweiser by this time next year.”

“Fuck that shit,” Grif exploded. Their gold pins, nicknamed Budweisers for their resemblance to the beer brand’s logo, were sacred. They were badges of honor earned through literal blood, sweat, and tears. They signified membership in the most exclusive brotherhood on the planet.

Kettering met his glare of disgust and stared him down so coldly that Griffin fell silent. He didn’t often see the boss man go ice cold like that, but when he did, someone was about to die.

Grif’s stare faltered. Fell away.

Well, go suck a duck. Kettering wasn’t going to be talked out of this madness.

Sherri’s words from last night reverberated through his brain. Where will that leave you? Will you be in or out?

He exhaled very carefully. Then he said with equal care, “Message received, sir.” When Kettering did not rip his head off with his bare hands, Grif risked adding, “I gather you have a training plan laid out that covers all the skills they’ll need?”

Kettering’s voice was still stern but had lost that brittle, deadly edge. “I do.”