Pampered By The Cold Panther Alpha

Kaelen Sharp's question remains unanswered.

"Who are you?"

Autumn's trembling intensified. She could feel the frequency and amplitude of her shoulders shaking—just right. Real enough, yet not so real as to seem like she was deliberately acting. This was a skill she had honed over ten years in the apocalypse.

She opened her mouth.

A sob. Broken and intermittent. Like a shattered whistle squeezed from the depths of a throat. No words, only fear. Pure sound.

Kaelen's eyebrows twitched.

It was very subtle. But Autumn caught it. That faint displeasure—the instinctive bewilderment of a predator facing prey that was far too fragile. He had never encountered a creature like this before. Neither a beastman nor a beast-demon. Thin. Pale. Non-aggressive. Unable to even stand steadily.

"Hey, boss."

A young voice broke in. The voice had a certain lightness to it, like a feather brushing the surface of water.

Zane Reynolds stepped forward. His hair shone like burning parrot feathers—a mixture of blue, purple, and red that shimmered in the dim light. A relaxed smile graced his face.

"Don't scare her. Look at her, she looks like she's been abandoned here..."

His voice suddenly lowered.

A faint scent drifted into the nostrils. Extremely faint, yet distinct enough. To the mutated human's sense of smell, this scent didn't need concentration, only presence.

Female pheromones.

The world stood still for a second.

The entire squad froze instantly. Six pairs of eyes turned to them. The look in their eyes changed. From suspicion to shock, from wariness to something more complex.

In this world, an unregistered woman. Wild. Lonely. Worth the equivalent of a planet containing S-grade minerals.

Autumn captured this change.

Her brain was like a high-speed processor—scanning, analyzing, and drawing conclusions. The gazes of six people. Pupils dilated. Breathing rate increased. Body weight shifted forward. Interest. Protective instinct. Possessiveness. And—value assessment.

She quickly adjusted her strategy.

"I……"

Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal. She clutched her head, her fingers clenching so tightly her nails almost dug into her scalp. "I don't know. My head hurts. I can't remember anything. I can't remember... anything."

Her performance was flawless.

The trembling vocal cords. The placement of the pauses. The timing of swallowing. The bewildered and fearful focus in the eyes when raised—like someone struggling with a severe headache.

Kaelen stretched out her hand.

It stopped mid-air. The fingers curled slightly, hesitating for a moment. Then it withdrew. The knuckles tightened and then relaxed.

He straightened up.

"Clean up the scene. Prepare to evacuate. Take her with you."

The tone changed. It was no longer a command, but a conclusion. There was no room for negotiation.

Zane jumped up. "Boss! We're rich! A wild woman! The guild's reward is enough for our retirement!" He turned to Autumn with a grin, "Don't worry, Miss, our Crimson Hound mercenary group is best at protecting people!"

"Shut up."

The voice came from the other side. Nolan Vance leaned against a tree, arms crossed, his expression wary, as if he were watching a ticking time bomb. "Her origins are unknown. This could be a trap. Have you ever heard of abandoned women? No. Never. Why is she here?"

Autumn absorbed every single word of these words into her mind.

Nolan Vance. Cautious. Skeptic. The team's safety valve.

She maintained the bewildered expression on her face. A perfectly measured look of confusion, as if she didn't quite understand what they were saying.

A teammate strode towards her. He was young. His movements were hurried.

Kaelen's eyes narrowed slightly.

The team member immediately stopped in his tracks, frozen in place, as if bound by invisible chains.

Kaelen removed his black combat jacket with swift, decisive movements. The jacket still carried the warmth of his body and the scent of blood—fresh, from the mantis monster's corpse. He walked over and tossed the jacket over her shoulder.

The feel of rough fabric. Heavy. Still warm.

"Put it on. It's cold in the forest at night."

Autumn obediently pulled the jacket tighter around herself. The wide hem hung below her knees, and the sleeves were rolled up three times before her fingertips were visible. She looked even smaller in the jacket, like a baby bird soaked through by the rain.

But inwardly, he was calmly analyzing the situation.

Material: Some kind of composite fiber. Lightweight, yet extremely tough. A very thin energy film covers the surface—presumably providing basic protection. Wear marks on the elbows indicate frequent use. A hard object is found in the side pocket, possibly a small energy battery.

She archived the data.

The team began processing the beastman's corpse. Cutting, sorting, and containing. The team worked in perfect harmony, their movements fluid and efficient. They placed the most valuable parts of the beastman into a spatial container—a palm-sized silver cube; retrieving items only required pressing the side.

Space technology. Autumn marked it in her mind.

She was positioned in the center of the group. Kaelen walked two steps ahead of her, naturally placing her at the core of the formation. Zane and Nolan were on either side of her, and the wolf-eared youth and the scaly-armed man were behind her.

Beastmen. All beastmen.

She walked among them, like a cherished package.

The path beneath her feet was difficult to traverse. The humus layer was thick and slippery, and exposed roots lay across the surface like tripwires. She walked slowly, cautiously testing the waters with each step.

Then she deliberately staggered.

My knees buckled. My body tilted to the right. A very natural feeling of weightlessness, like the inevitable result of exhaustion.

A hand grabbed her arm.

The force was just right—preventing her from falling without hurting her. Her fingers were large and calloused. The heat seeped through the jacket fabric, burning intensely.

Kaelen.

He caught her.

Her body stiffened for a moment—an instinctive reaction. The next second, she forced herself to relax. Soft. Submissive. Like a boneless puddle of mud.

Kaelen quickly released her grip.

He took a half step back. A very faint red tinge appeared on the tips of his ears, almost invisible in the dim light. But the color still spread, standing out prominently against his dark skin.

"Thanks."

She kept her head down. Her voice was as soft as the wind rustling through the leaves.

Kaelen didn't respond. He turned around and continued walking, but his pace slowed.

The entire group slowed down. Zane stepped forward and used her knife to clear away the vines blocking their path. Nolan kicked aside the sharp rocks beside her. The wolf-eared youth walked behind her, blocking a thorny branch that was sticking out.

They treated her like a fragile object.

Autumn observed. She recorded. Their coordinated movements, the gaps in their tactical cooperation, their individual habitual actions. Zane had an injured left shoulder—he would subconsciously avoid using his left arm when slashing. Nolan had a wide field of vision, but every three minutes he would turn thirty degrees to the right to check behind him. The wolf-eared youth had extremely sensitive ears; even the slightest movement in any direction would attract his attention.

She broke these people down into data.

The best position is in the "center of the group." "Protected asset" is the safest identity. As long as the shields of "woman" and "amnesia" remain, she can continue to observe, learn, and adapt.

Night quickly enveloped the dense forest.

The howls of the beasts echoed from afar, rising and falling. The closest was less than two kilometers away.

The team sped up again. Kaelen glanced back at her, his gaze lingering on her face for half a second. Then he turned his head and gestured to the team.

Formation contraction.

The space around her felt more intimate.