As they reached the final checkpoint leading into the street housing City Hall, it proved more thorough—soldiers scanned their documents, ran a quick screening, then guided them forward through a demarcated section.
Beyond the barriers, crowds pressed close. Protesters filled the area, voices rising in a restless chorus as signs bobbed overhead.
A black Range Rover moved ahead of them, drawing shouts.
"Kill the rich!"
"Help us too!"
"How can you all be so selfish?"
Don kept the Rolls steady. Some in the crowd threw tomatoes.
One splattered against the windshield with a wet **THUD~**, juice streaking down the glass before the wipers swept it away.
Two more hit the side panels with dull impacts. Neither he nor Miss Claire reacted visibly. He understood the anger.
These people had lost everything. Watching luxury vehicles roll through only sharpened the bitterness.
"One can understand their anger," Miss Claire murmured, echoing his own thoughts.
