The days passed for the Lndgraabs very slowly at first as they continued to deal with their raw grief. As the Summer heat gave way to Autumn’s mild chill, the battle weary family began to pick up the pieces of their life. Although Lenora was never far from their minds and hearts, the Landgraabs found a new rhythm without Lenora’s physical presence.

Tyrone resumed his work and threw himself into his new role as a single father. He lavished all his love on his family but was now a different man. Very rarely did he smile, and gone was the laughter that had always come so easily. The once happy, affable man was now replaced by a quiet, more reserved man with haunted, pain-filled eyes.

Magdalena, Tyrone’s grandmother, visited the family as often as she could. One rainy evening, the strain of trying to keep it together for the sake of the children wore him out completely. After the children were in bed, Tyrone sank to the sofa, hands over his eyes and groaning. He didn’t fight it as the grief rolled over him in merciless waves, the physical and emotional pain of Lenora’s absence attacking him like an army of manchettes. Tears ran, unabashed, down his cheeks, and he shivered as chills racked his body.

Magdalena quietly sat next to her grandson and took him in her arms. She held him tight while he sobbed out his sorrow, murmuring soft words of comfort and rubbing and patting his back. “It will be all right, my love. I promise it will.”

“No, Grandmother, it will never be all right again,” Tyrone croaked out once he was able to speak. “My Lenora…” He trailed off as another onslaught of chills rendered him speechless.

Magdalena retrieved a throw blanket from a nearby chair and wrapped it around her grandson. “It will, Tyrone. I know it is hard to believe right now, but one day you will know it’s true.” As he began to shake his head in protest, Magdalena gave him a firm but gentle shake. “You must listen to me very closely, Tyrone. I cannot reveal much but I promise you that things will truly be better.”

The tone in his grandmother’s voice was all too familiar to Tyrone. It was purposeful, firm, and stern, yet it was loving and reassuring. When she spoke this way, Tyrone knew a cryptic message was about to come. “What is it, Grandmother? I’m listening.” With great effort, Tyrone focused all his attention on his grandmother’s face.

“First of all, things are not always as they appear. You are going to have to rely on your Wolf’s Sixth Sense and listen to it. Listen to it carefully and it will guide you in the right direction.”

Tyrone shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“You will if you listen to it and don’t fight it,” she said simply. Before he could question her further, she went on. Placing a hand gently on his shoulder, her expression changing to one of absolute compassion, she said, “You are going to have to be very strong, my beautiful grandson. You will need to muster all the strength that is within you and then some, for the storm is not over. The children, Aurora especially, will be needing their father more than ever.”

Another chill attacked Tyrone, and the remaining color in his face drained away. “Grandmother, what are you saying? What about the children? Is Aurora in some kind of trouble that I don’t know about? Great Drogo, what next?” Tyrone closed his eyes as black spots swam in his vision. All the strength leaving his body, he felt himself falling…falling ever so slowly into a thicket of gray.

Magdalena shook him again, harder this time. She slapped his cheeks lightly and brought her face close to his. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, Tyrone Landgraab! Come on now, pull it together and hear me. You’ve got to suck it up and listen to me if you want your Pack to survive. YOU ARE AN ALPHA WOLF, NOW ACT LIKE ONE!” These last words came out in a fierce growl that would make even the bravest of heart freeze where they stood.

Tyrone could count on one hand all the times his revered and normally gentle grandmother had growled at him. She was a force to be reckoned with during those times, and Tyrone didn’t dare defy her. This time was no different. He drew in a sharp, gasping inhalation, shivered violently, licked his lips, and slowly opened his eyes.

“There. That’s better.” Magdalena softened her tone.

Tyrone blinked and willed his racing heart to slow down. “Wh–what do I need to know?” Slowly regaining a sitting position, he watched as Magdalena sat in a nearby chair. A bomb was about to be dropped, and he knew his full attention was required if he was to defuse it. Rubbing his bleary eyes a few times, breathing in and out several long, slow breaths, Tyrone braced himself for his grandmother’s next words.

“I can’t reveal much, sweetheart. The only thing I can tell you is that when this…life-altering event occurs, things will move along quickly, spurring on a chain reaction of more life-changing events. Aurora will be the one most effected, and you are going to have to be the strong and brave father and Alpha Wolf I know you to be. I do not mean to frighten you, and I cannot tell you when all this will begin, but you need to prepare. If you stay on the right path and listen to your Wolf’s Sixth Sense, you…all of you…will persevere.”

Sleep completely evaded Tyrone that night as his mind played his grandmother’s words over and over. His bedroom felt too empty, and memories of his Lenora lying beside him seized his heart and squeezed it in a vice. A feeling of urgency to get out of there was too powerful to ignore, so he got up, still fully dressed, and lay down on the sofa to try to straighten out the spider web of thoughts and emotions Magdalena’s visit brought on.

He couldn’t fathom what his grandmother’s message meant, only that something awful was going to happen that would affect Aurora deeply. What in the name of Drogo was going to happen to her and why would she, especially be effected? Was she or any of the other children going to suffer an illness? An injury? Was someone going to try to kidnap one of them? “Over my dead body!” Tyrone growled to the room at large. Now that his Lenora was gone, it was up to him alone to protect his Pack, and protect his Pack he would to his dying breath.

And what was this about his Wolf’s Sixth Sense? It tingled every time he thought of his Lenora. Her illness, her death, her funeral…something was very, very wrong. Things aren’t always as they appear, his grandmother had said. Everything surrounding his Lenora’s leaving simply didn’t add up. //Something is extremely wrong!// His Sixth Sense clanged violently, causing Tyrone’s entire body to spasm.

//Oh, my Lenora…// The image of her floated before him, his wolfish senses automatically trying to reach for his mate. “I felt her go,” he spoke aloud in a strangled whisper. “She died in my arms. I felt her go, saw her die, and yet…I’ve got to get to the bottom of this. I must for my own sanity and for the sake of my children.” He closed his eyes, totally cleared his mind for the first time in what seemed ages, and willed his Wolf’s Sixth Sense to talk to him. //Almonds. Lenora smelled of almonds and not of death when at the hospital. Your Sire recognized this, as do you. Lenora was warm even after she should have turned cold. You swore you heard a heartbeat and felt a whisper of air pass her lips. Was it real or imagined? What do you believe, truly believe? At the funeral, she didn’t smell like Lenora even behind the embalming chemicals and death smell. Clean slate…clean slate…listen to those words. Clean slate is how you described who and what lay in that coffin. How many times over the months have you thought you felt her? Did you imagine that? I think not.//

Tyrone sat bolt upright, a scream rising to his throat and desperately needing to escape. He closed his lips tightly, fisted his hands over his mouth, and mentally shook himself. “Great Drogo, who did we bury? That was not my Lenora. Insane as it sounds, I swear it was not her. But how is that possible? How can someone look exactly like her and not be her? She had no identical twin or any other siblings.”

Tyrone’s eyes widened as his Sixth Sense vibrated in triumph. “I’m on to something, but what? Oh, this is just too bizarre, but I know I’m on to something.” Consulting his watch, he saw it was just after 4AM, but there wasn’t a moment to lose. Urgency quickened within him, which spurred him on to do what he did next.

//Father, it’s Tyrone. Can you hear me? I’m so sorry to disturb your sleep, Sire, but I need your help. Will you please help me?//

Almost immediately, Deus’s telepathic voice answered. //Of course, Son. I will always help you. You know that.//

//Please forgive me for waking you,// Tyrone communicated.

//It’s all right, Tyrone. There is nothing to forgive.// Tyrone felt the fingers of tension lessen a little at the reassuring tomes of his sire’s message. //What has happened?//

//Well, I’m not sure just yet, but there is something I absolutely must do and I need your help. I need to see you and Mom right away, as well as Cian, Theresa, Liam, and Mathilda. I need to see all of you at first light if that can be arranged. It can’t wait.//

//OK, Son, I’m on it, but can I ask what this is about?//

Tyrone took a steadying breath before communicating back. //Sire, it’s about my Lenora. The oddities…you know the ones I mean, plus the conversation we had at her funeral. The oddities, Sire…there’s something fishy going on. I know it.//

//Yes,// Deus replied simply.

//I can’t shake this feeling. Even now, I just can’t shake it. Father…uh…Sire, I am going to have Lenora’s body exhumed and I need you…all of you…to help me with what is to come.//