Finding Local Gangs.

Riley leaned back in his chair, the dim light of the bar casting long shadows over his face.

He was sipping his drink slowly, taking in the chatter around him while his mind wandered.

The hustle and bustle of the bar seemed distant, muffled by the fog of his own thoughts.

His eyes scanned the room lazily, as if he were watching a show he'd seen a thousand times before. Nothing here mattered to him.

A commotion stirred near the bar, two patrons arguing over something trivial—money, maybe, or some petty slight. Riley didn't care.

His body instinctively tensed, though, always prepared for violence, but his attention quickly drifted back inward.

He hadn't been in Belfast for long. The memories of the city were etched deeply into his soul, but they were not ones he liked to visit.

His fingers brushed over the rough edge of the table, his mind slipping back to a moment he wished he could forget—back to the children.