Veiled Calls at Twilight

Growing up with an unconventional mom was hard. Her days were spent performing romani rituals in the kitchen, with the occasional pointed reminder of my wasted potential. Instead of listening, I just rolled my eyes as I focused on getting my masters, working towards a new life for us.
Then she died.
In an attempt to be a good roma daughter, I went to her grave to send her soul off in the old ways, like she would’ve wanted.
While singing her soul song, a stunning man with a rich accent and beautifully scrawled tattoos appeared beside me, asking oddly specific questions. Next thing I knew, my body grew limp and his whispered words the last thing I remembered.
We’ll be your family now. The voices told me so.
When I awoke, I was chained to a bed by three psychopaths demanding to know more about my mothers past. Now, there was a new goal—surviving my captors.
Not only did that occupy my mind, but I started having oddly vivid dreams with burning symbols, moody doves, and voices telling me these men, my captors, were mine.
The more I learned about these men, the more my bleeding heart reached out for them, echoing their darkness with my own.
As their fathers demands coiled around us, they had to make a choice. Me or the family. Was our bond enough to save me? Or, in the end, was it all just a dream at twilight?