Grizzly locked eyes with me. A profound, unwavering respect burned in his gaze. He didn’t see the “disappointing daughter” of the Vance military dynasty; he saw the tactical genius who had openly defied the Pentagon to send a rescue chopper when the top brass had written them off as acceptable casualties.
“Attention on deck!” Grizzly roared, his voice booming like a thunderclap across the stunned, silent auditorium. “Vice Admiral Vance in the house!”
In perfect, terrifying unison, three hundred Navy SEALs occupying the front rows shot to their feet. The synchronized scraping of three hundred chairs against the marble floor sounded like the racking of a massive shotgun. They snapped into a flawless, rigid salute. The sheer physical force of their combined respect seemed to suck the oxygen entirely out of the enormous room.
The rest of the auditorium descended into absolute pandemonium. Dignitaries, senators, and four-star generals scrambled to their feet, following the SEALs’ lead, their eyes wide with shock and awe as they finally noticed my rank and the impossible array of medals on my chest.
