David's POV
The thunderous roar of helicopter blades shattered the silence above us shortly after.
Wind whipped violently around us as we stepped from the car, the downdraft stinging my eyes and pulling at our clothes. I didn't even blink.
My blood burned at the thought of facing Griffin again. Every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to strike. The urge to drive my fist through his jaw, to make him pay for everything he'd stolen from me, consumed every rational thought.
People might say I shouldn't feel this way about my own father. But Griffin had never been a father to me. He'd been nothing more than a cold instructor, barking orders and expecting blind obedience. Never once had I felt anything resembling paternal love from that man.
He was a stranger wearing the title of father. Nothing more.
The three of us ran toward the aircraft, heads down against the brutal wind. The pilot gestured frantically, his words swallowed by the deafening noise of the rotors.
