"Not to mention," the figure continued, his eyes settling on Eloi's image glowing against the screen, "the Enigma has already secured alliances and loyalists beneath the Sovereign's very nose."
A murmur rippled across the table.
"That," another man interjected evenly, "is our true concern."
He folded his hands.
"We are not opposed to a 100% Pureblood ascending the throne. For years, we were told such a birth should be feared — that it would destabilize the Alpha realm itself. If that stance has changed, so be it."
His gaze hardened.
"But the Enigma through whom that Pureblood was born is another matter entirely."
Silence stretched thin.
"We will not allow an Enigma to rule us from the shadows — to pull our strings and turn Pureblood Alphas into nothing more than his puppets!"
Madam Beckett drew in a slow breath. She did not answer at once.
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Bogdan Gromov. He met her gaze and gave a single, resolute nod.
