Zane dashes back to the room, flings the mattress off the bed, topples the closets, every nook and cranny that can fit a human, Zane searches.
“Where are they!?” He grabs one of the warrior guards who is by the hallway and slams him against the wall. The warrior's eyes widen and his hands lull to the side.
“A-Alpha, I don't know,” he stutters.
“You don't know!? How don't you f*****g know!? Weren't you supposed to watch them and make sure no one comes in or leaves?”
“M-my sh-shift began three minutes ago, sir,” the warrior's breathing is laboured.
He flings him to the floor and runs his hand through his hair.
“Whose shift was it?” He seethes.
“It was mine, sir,” another guard jogs in.
“What happened?” Zane spits every word intensely without staring at them.
“Sir, we were drugged,”
