Don and Lily reached the front of the vehicle and leaned back against the hood, then sat on it fully, metal creaking faintly under his weight. He crossed his arms and looked past her, eyes drifting over the damage to the building.
"How did this happen?" he asked.
Lily mirrored him without thinking—arms crossing, coat shifting as she adjusted it tighter around herself. She looked back at the broken entrance, the warped frame, the shattered glass littering the pavement.
"I was talking with the contractor," she said. "Interior work. They were supposed to start tomorrow." Her jaw tightened. "Then we got attacked. Men were masked, but I'm almost certain Johnny's behind it."
Don raised a brow.
He hadn't bothered digging too deep into the city's underbelly. His focus had been split too many ways, and the Deadly Damsels weren't even operational yet. There hadn't been a need.
"Why are you so sure?" he asked.
