Guilded moon a sapphic f.., p.1
Guilded Moon: A Sapphic Fantasy Romance (QueerWolf Book 3), page 1
GUILDED MOON
A SAPPHIC SHIFTER ROMANCE
QUEERWOLF
BOOK THREE
HARMONY FULLER
Copyright © 2025 by Harmony Fuller
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
ISBN:9798287767174
This entire trilogy is dedicated to the lost who became found. To the broken who became whole. To the guarded who learned to trust again. And to every soul brave enough to believe that love, in all its forms, is always worth the fight.
CONTENTS
Jess
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Stay In Touch
Your Next Read
Just another Tuesday at the Office
JESS
The worst part isn't the cold. It's the quiet.
The kind of quiet that presses against your ribs, reminding you that you're alone.
That you chose this.
I shift slowly, my spine brushing the back wall of the hidden crawlspace at the back of the observation room I've been sleeping in for three nights straight. I stopped using the bunks after Sloane asked me, too casually, if I could start making her bed too, and all the others as well. She asked because she's a bitch, but also because my bed was always so perfectly made.
I think she already knew I wasn't sleeping there. I feel like she already knows everything. I hoped that was my imagination.
My knees crack as I move. I wince and press my face into the crook of my arm. The floor is tile and metal. No warmth, no cushion, no blankets. No scent of pine, or pack, or Jewel. Just recycled air and the acrid tang of disinfectant mixed with silver that clings to everything in this place. It gets in your clothes, in your skin, in your mouth. I can't taste anything else anymore.
The transmitter is hidden beneath a maintenance panel just outside the door. I used it three days ago, sent a message, short and tight. Just enough to say I was alive, that I might have something, that I was staying deep.
And then I waited.
No reply. No static. No green flicker to let me know it had gone through.
Just… nothing.
Maybe they blocked the frequency.
Maybe they found it.
Maybe Jewel never heard me.
Maybe she doesn't want to hear me anymore. The thought hurts more than the cold floors ever could.
I exhale and press my fingers to the transmitter cord. My hands are shaking. I tell myself it's from hunger. From sleep deprivation. From how close Sloane got last night.
But really, I know it's from guilt.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Luna. Little paws, wide eyes, struggling against my grip as I carried her away. I held her like cargo because that's what I told myself she had to be.
They didn't need to teach me how to be cruel. I was already broken. Already hollow. They just gave me direction and set me loose.
And then Jayne gave me a second chance I didn't deserve.
That's why I'm here.
Not because anyone asked me. Not because I owe the pack.
Because Jayne, and somehow even Jewel, looked at me like I was worth saving, and now I have to be the kind of person who wouldn't make them regret it.
Even if it kills me.
Footsteps.
Clipped and steady.
Coming down the hall.
I crawl out of the space, making myself look busy while smoothing the wrinkles in my coat, slowing my breath.
Three seconds. Two. One.
The door opens. I see polished boots. Tall frame. Confident.
Pierce.
She doesn't even glance toward me. Just steps into the observation room with her tablet and her coffee. She's always calm. Always clean. The kind of person who doesn't need to raise her voice to destroy someone.
I don't think she trusts me.
She doesn't have to because honestly, I don't think she even cares.
To her, I'm a tool. A former asset who is still vaguely useful. She didn't ask many questions when I came back. Just told me where to sleep, what to do, and what she expected.
"You're either still functional." Her eyes flicked over me like she was inspecting damaged goods. "Or you're something to be tossed. Don't make me test which you are.”
I think about that every day.
Is today the day I'm "tossed"?
Then there's Sloane. She's different.
She doesn't want me here. Doesn't think I'm salvageable. She doesn't see a tool. She sees a traitor pretending to remember which side she's on.
I know she's been watching me. I know she followed me two nights ago when I went to the mess hall and didn't eat. She didn't say anything. Just leaned in the doorway and smiled like a shark.
I asked if she needed something.
"You think they forgave you? For stealing that pup? For crawling back here like a whipped dog?" She smiled like a shark. "That's what I like about you, Jess. You don't waste words. You just waste people."
The worst part? I didn't even flinch. Because part of me agreed with her.
That's what scares me.
That I don't even know if I'm pretending anymore.
I press the transmitter's activation button when I am sure Pierce isn't looking, just for a second.
Nothing.
I try again.
Nothing.
One last time I hold it down and whisper, "Jewel, something's wrong. Moving the others in four days. New silver collars. If you get this…"
The green light dies and the signal's gone. Not blocked, cut. Someone here knows, but they let me get enough through. A fragment. A breadcrumb.
Maybe that's all Lydia needs.
I tuck the transmitter back into its panel and slide the cover into place as quietly as I can. My heart is hammering now, too loudly. I press my hand against my chest, as if I can muffle it.
Pierce walks back out, head angled down towards her notes. She never said a word because why would you acknowledge machinery when you enter or exit a room?
I exhale, trying to slow my heart.
I move fast but low, crawling back into the space between the wall and the storage crates. I curl into myself, knees to chest, and press my forehead against my arm.
This was always going to happen.
This was always going to be a one-way trip.
Still, I wanted her to hear me.
Just once.
Just in case this was it.
At least now Lydia knows where to find my body.
Maybe she’ll tell Jewel.
CHAPTER 1
Lydia
I smelled her before I saw her.
The scent hit like a truck, smoke and pine and iron. A scent I'd tried so hard to forget but my body remembered anyway, muscle memory of nights spent tangled together, of fingers tracing scars, of promises whispered against skin. It twisted in my chest, so sharp it made my throat ache. I gripped the porch railing to ground myself, my fingers curling around the splintering wood.
The grain bit back.
Good.
I needed it to bite.
They were walking up the ridge now. Jayne and Princess, returning with someone I had never thought to see again.
Alexis.
I didn't move. Didn't shift my stance. Just stood there, letting the crisp air bite at my skin and fill my lungs with the storm I'd spent years trying to outlast.
Footsteps behind me.
Naomi.
I didn’t need to turn to know it was her: steady, quiet, calm as ever. She didn’t say a word, but I felt her presence settle at my side like armor.
"They're coming in on foot," she said eventually, her voice low. "Tactical decision."
"No vehicles, " I murmured, watching the approaching figures. "Smart. Rolling in like a convoy would've put me in a mood."
Naomi snorted. “Would've?”
I didn't answer. The familiar tease fell flat today.
"Jayne better not have lost that fucking truck again…"
I almost smil
The group came into view fully now. Alexis was in front.
Of course she was.
That stride hadn't changed, shoulders squared, chin high, eyes forward, but something about her looked heavier, dulled in places I couldn't name.
I wondered what nightmare had been enough to strip some of her warrior shine.
And just behind her, Maya.
My chest seized. Not visibly, but the hit landed deep. Maya walked too close to her mother, like she needed to anchor herself to Alexis's shadow. Her eyes flicked up, scanning, cautious.
Then they landed on me.
I froze.
Naomi's fingers flexed at her side. She noticed.
I looked away.
Olivia stepped out of the house, as if she'd sensed we needed a buffer. Her presence always softened things. I hadn't approved of Naomi letting herself get sideswiped for love, but I wasn't complaining about having a full-time doctor on grounds.
Behind Olivia hovered Daisy, wide-eyed and twitchy. Newly mated. Human.
My gaze swept the rest of the group, Princess and Jayne with hands clasped like a lifeline, other wolves I didn’t recognize trailing behind with wide eyes and shifting feet, an older woman who looked like an Alpha, but clearly wasn’t holding, steady at their flank.
Survivors.
All of them.
And then Alexis looked up.
We locked eyes.
The ground didn't shake. The world didn't spin.
But I broke inside anyway.
Her eyes were the same shade I remembered. But they didn't soften now when she looked at me.
"Lydia," she said.
My name sounded clipped on her tongue. Like something that had once tasted sweet but now turned bitter.
"Alexis," I returned, just as flat.
She stopped a few paces from the porch. Her gaze flicked to the girls behind her, then back to me.
"I see you've brought more strays to add to my collection."
Naomi tensed beside me and I heard a growl from the group, Jayne, probably. Alexis didn't react.
"They're not strays," she said, her voice cool and sure. "They're pack."
I let my eyes sweep the group again. Trembling shoulders, wide eyes, haunted looks. Survivors, yes, but barely.
"And unless I'm mistaken," I said, my gaze cutting back to Alexis, then to Maya behind her, "they don't belong to you."
Maya flinched.
Alexis didn't.
There it was. That old rhythm. Words thrown out like weapons, clipped and careful and cutting.
Princess's eyes narrowed, but it wasn't the red wolf I was watching. It was Alexis. The way her jaw tensed. "We have much to discuss."
I nodded once and turned without waiting. "We do."
The porch creaked beneath my steps. I could feel her behind me, her presence like static on my skin as I walked through the front door.
The scent of home hit me: cedar floors, cooked meat, old books. Naomi started to follow, but I waved her away. The door clicked shut behind Alexis., cutting us off from the world.
I moved through the house on instinct. The hallways smelled like cedar and rosemary and various books leaned in tired stacks against the wall. Naomi had tidied recently: papers filed, weapons rack gleaming, but none of it felt settled. Not with her here.
I could hear Alexis following. Not hesitating and not rushing. Just… present.
We reached the main room.
I didn't sit. Neither did she.
She stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed. The fireplace was dead, just ash and memory, and the table between us had been recently scarred when Casey had thrown a blade during a bad briefing last month.
Alexis walked toward it, dragging her fingers along the nick like she was memorizing it.
I kept my distance.
"You didn't kill anyone in greeting," I said. “That's a good start.”
Her jaw twitched. "Would've been rude."
I didn't laugh, but my chest ached like I almost had.
She turned to face me fully. "They needed safety. The kids. I had to bring them. Some are mine, Ghost Pack. Most are…"
"Princess's," I finished, my voice steady even though my stomach rolled at how many unfamiliar alphas were in my territory. The fact that the red wolf had reappeared on my doorstep with an Alpha’s scent hadn’t escaped me.
She nodded. "We couldn't leave them. They would have followed anyway.”
"Mayfield isn't a charity," I said, the words sharper than I meant.
"I didn't ask for charity. I'm asking for unity."
"That what we're calling it?"
Her eyes flared. Not anger, this was something else. The still seeping shadow of a bond that hummed under our skin.
"I brought you allies," she said finally. "You can scoff at that if you want, but it doesn't change what's coming."
I crossed my arms, mirroring her. "And what is coming, Alexis?"
She didn't hesitate. "Silver collars. Behavioral triggers. Controlled shifts. Submission codes keyed to specific tones. You name it and they have it."
The words landed like blows. Not because I didn't know, Naomi had hinted and Jayne had whispered, but because she was saying it.
"Where?"
"Northwest Ridge. About three miles off the old Burnt Pine trail. Underground. Guard rotations every six hours, drone coverage light. They're confident."
Of course they were.
"And you think walking into my territory with half a pack of scared kids and scars qualifies you to call the shots and demand I what? Send in reinforcements?”
Her lips parted. "No. But I think I've earned the right to be heard."
That stopped me.
Because she had.
Not because she'd brought survivors. Not because she had intel. But because she was standing here, back in my house, back in my life, looking like she hadn't slept in weeks and still hadn't lost an ounce of the fire that once burned straight through me.
And I hated her for it.
I turned away and walked to the window. From here, I could see the tree line, the shadows where the Haven wolves lingered, the open space where Naomi would run drills later.
My home.
My burden.
"They'll follow you," I said. "Even if I don't."
"I don't want them to follow me,” she replied softly. "I want them to survive."
I looked back. She was still standing there, still unreadable, but something in her had cracked.
I tried not to look back at her. I really did. But my gaze betrayed me, drifting back over and over, cataloging things it had no business remembering. Her hair was the same, still pale as moonlight, thick and braided. My fingers remembered the silk of it, how it felt wrapped around my hand when I'd pull her close. Her eyes had that same sharp glint, the kind that saw straight through masks and never missed a flaw. Her body, always lean and lethal, had hardened in some places, but softened in others. Motherhood suited her. Every movement broadcast power, but there was a fatigue beneath it now.
There were new scars, too. I couldn't see all of them, but I didn't need to. They lived in the way her shoulders stayed tight, how her stance always favored the left leg, how her jaw clenched when she turned her head too quickly. Ghosts. She carried them like a second spine.
And even knowing what stood between us, the past she ran from, the daughter at her side who didn't know the truth, I still felt it.
That unbearable, inconvenient pull.
The bond hadn't frayed. It had just burrowed deeper.
"You still wear it," I said quietly.
Alexis looked up, confused, but then her hand drifted to the worn leather cuff around her wrist. The one I'd given her.
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
I turned back to the window, my reflection blurred against the glass.
"I'm not the same woman I was," Alexis said finally. "Neither are you."
No.
I wasn't.
