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ROGUES’ TROUBLE

Oberon returned to the rogues’hideout and saw as Tim stormed through the laboratory, his face twisted in rage. "How could you all be so incompetent?" he snarled, his eyes scanning the room. "The girls were rescued, and we didn't even see it coming. What were you all doing?”

The rogues cowered, avoiding eye contact. "We didn't expect the rescue team to be so organized," one of them mumbled.

Tim's anger boiled over. "Organized? They must have had inside help. I want to know who was behind this."

He paced back and forth, his fists clenched. "This is a disaster. Lord Marcus will have my head on a platter. I may lose my Beta position for sure."

One of the rogues spoke up, trying to defend himself. "It wasn't our fault, Tim. We were caught off guard—"

Tim cut him off, his voice dripping with venom. "Caught off guard? You were supposed to be the best. Now we look like fools."

He stopped pacing and fixed the rogues with a cold stare. "We need to regroup and come up with a new plan. And fast.
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