Marked By The Alpha Who Buried My Old Pack

Chapter Four: The Note

Sienna Cole POV

Dinner that night felt almost normal for the first time since I'd gotten home, and some of the heaviness that had settled over the house finally started to lift, at least for an hour or two. Grandma cooked enough food for twice our number like always, and my dad actually smiled more than once across the table.

"So you already finished school out there?" Kellan asked, leaning back in his chair, a little jealous underneath the teasing tone.

"Officially graduated," I said, sticking my tongue out at him playfully.

"Only one more year until you can sense your mate properly," my dad said, winking at me over his plate.

I hadn't really thought about that in months, buried under everything else that had happened. My nineteenth birthday wasn't far off now, only a couple months away if I really counted the days.

"Her poor mate's going to have his hands completely full," Kellan smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

"I'm not planning on making it easy for him," I shot back immediately.

"So who actually trained you all year?" Kellan asked, leaning forward with real curiosity now. "Nobody's kept up with Alpha Vale the way you did today. Everyone else got destroyed."

Grandma and I traded a quick, careful look across the table.

"Grandma's neighbor," I said carefully. "He's into martial arts and self-defense. Older guy, very serious about it."

Kellan raised an eyebrow at that but let the subject go without pushing further. "Any plans for the weekend at least?"

"Not really," I shrugged, poking at my food. "I don't exactly have friends left here anymore, not after everything."

"You could talk to Skylar," Kellan said gently. "She asked about you during training the other day. Said she felt bad about how things ended between you two, before you left."

My chest tightened hard at her name. I'd dropped my best friend the second Ryder and his crowd decided she wasn't cool enough to keep around, and I'd hated myself quietly for that decision ever since.

"Maybe," I said softly, staring down at my plate.

My dad watched me carefully across the table, something thoughtful in his expression. "You've changed a lot this year, Sienna. Not just the fighting. You used to let people like that decide who you were allowed to be friends with."

I didn't have a good answer for that, so I just nodded and let the conversation move on to easier things. Grandma filled the rest of dinner with stories about her garden, about a fox that kept stealing vegetables from her patch, and slowly the table settled back into something close to comfortable.

After dinner, I collapsed onto my bed upstairs and felt something crinkle sharply underneath me. I pulled out a small, folded scrap of paper from beneath the blanket.

Welcome home, Sienna.

The handwriting looked almost familiar somehow, but I couldn't quite place where I'd seen it before. I turned it over twice, looking for any other clue, but found nothing. I shoved the note into my dresser drawer and told myself firmly that it didn't matter one bit. I fell asleep still fully dressed before I could think about it any longer.

The next morning, I actually remembered to set an alarm for once. I threw on training clothes, tied my hair back tight, and made it to the pack house early, well ahead of schedule for the first time since I'd come home.

"Not late today," Kellan said, genuinely impressed as I walked up.

"I'm a changed woman," I said dryly, rolling my eyes at him.

"Hey, Sienna." A familiar voice caught me completely off guard. I turned to find Skylar standing there, her hair cut into a short pixie style that somehow suited her even better than her old look.

"Hey," I said, softer than I meant to sound. "Good to see you again."

"You did good yesterday," she said simply, not a hint of bitterness anywhere in her voice.

"Tell that to my sore muscles," I laughed, some of the old guilt in my chest finally easing just a little bit. "Skylar, I'm sorry. For how things went before I left. I should've said something a long time ago."

"I know," she said simply. "I forgave you a while back. I just didn't know if you'd ever come back to hear it."

Something in my chest loosened at that, a knot I hadn't realized I'd been carrying for a full year.

"Attention," Ronan's voice cut sharply through the yard, silencing every conversation at once. "Pair off with your partners. You'll rotate through offense and defense today."

Everyone scattered quickly into pairs around the yard. I braced myself the second I spotted him walking directly toward me again, already knowing exactly what was coming.

"You managed to show up on time," he said, studying me carefully without a hint of warmth in his expression.

"Don't sound too impressed," I said, meeting his stare evenly.

We trained hard that morning, harder even than the day before. He hit fast, calculated, like he already understood exactly where my weaknesses were hiding. My only real advantage against him was speed a full year of gymnastics and Grady's brutal lessons kicking in every time I needed to slip past his guard.

"You need more muscle on that frame," he said flatly, barely breaking a sweat. "I can barely feel your hits landing."

"I'm a hundred and five pounds," I snapped back. "Not everyone gets to walk around built like a tank."

"If you fought as well as you argue, you might actually match me someday," he said coolly, unbothered.

Something inside me finally snapped loose. I channeled every bit of frustration I had left into my next swing and actually connected solidly with his jaw. I might have broken a knuckle doing it. He barely even flinched at the impact.

"Better," he said, expression still unreadable. "Your anger makes you stronger."

"Thanks," I said before I could stop the words. "I was thinking about you the whole time."

I bolted straight for the locker room before he could respond, my heart pounding hard for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with training at all.