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 and focused on earning my master’s degree, working toward 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, just as she would have wanted.

While singing her soul song, a stunning man with a rich accent and intricate tattoos appeared beside me, asking oddly specific questions. The next thing I knew, my body went limp, and his whispered words were 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, three psychopaths looming over me, demanding to know more about my mother’s past. My new goal became clear—survive my captors.

But survival wasn’t my only concern. Vivid dreams began to consume me—burning symbols, moody doves, and voices whispering that these men, my captors, were mine.

The more I unraveled about them, the more my bleeding heart reached for them, mirroring their darkness with my own.

As their father’s demands tightened around us, they were forced to make a choice: me or the family. Was our bond strong enough to save me? Or, in the end, was it all just a dream at twilight?