Ivory

Ivory DRESSED TO KILL KIRA ROMAN Copyright © 2023 by Kira Roman All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Editing: Melissa Plant Cover by Jodie-Leigh Plowman of JODIELOCKS Designs Created with Vellum For the broken, We can be broken together. Contents Foreword Prologue 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 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Epilogue Dressed to Kill Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Kira Roman Blurb Attending an Academy for spoiled rich kids is not on my bucket list, but killing my abuser is. He made my childhood a living hell until the day Man saved me and brought me to the Belladonna Mansion. Now, it’s time to return the favor. Three targets, one mission. Three broken boys and three victims. They say bad things come in threes, but there's only one me. I’m not an innocent child anymore, and watching my abuser suffer for his crimes will heal the last of my broken pieces. I hope. I’m used to plans changing and having to adjust, but no one could have prepared me for Fitz, Maddox, Jacob, Aggie, and Liza. Will they get in the way of me doing my job, or will they remind me of all the reasons I love this life I live? Flaws and all. Only one way to find out. Look out Diamond Oak Academy, once I’m done with you, you'll never be the same… Foreword Ivory is apart of the Dressed to Kill shared world. It can be read as a standalone, independent of the other books in the series. WARNING This book contains strong language, sexual situations, violence, and abuse. (The main characters have trauma, from things like child abuse, and death.) Read with caution, and if you have triggers, this book probably isn’t for you. Prologue IVORY AGE SIXTEEN “When you do this job, it’s important to stay hidden. To operate under the radar. You can’t be too flashy because that’s how you get caught…” Tabitha says in a flat tone, then looks over at me, as she builds something I can’t even identify. A drone perhaps? When I first started trailing her around like a lost puppy, I think it not only annoyed her but confused her. I think I was seven, maybe younger, when I first started following her. “Tabby-Cat?” “What,” Tabby asked, a bit snippy. She set the wrench she had stuffed into the car engine down and turned to look at me. I could tell she was frustrated. Exasperated by all my questions. “Do you want me to go away?” I asked, and she squinted, tilted her head, and then shook it. “It’s my birthday,” I whispered, not really sure what else to say. Not really sure why I brought it up. It was my first one there at the mansion, and I didn’t think we were going to celebrate. “I know.” That's all she said, so I just crept into the darkness and watched her work. ‘'Of course, her indifference toward me is what drew me to her company. She’s quiet, almost never talking, unlike my sister who is a bit wild and never shuts up. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister, but sometimes I need the company of someone who prefers silence. And by sometimes, I mean most of the time. I smile because even though I thought no one cared, the girls all celebrated my birthday. Mine and Naomi’s. Sometimes, the thoughts in my head get so loud that if I have someone else’s voice chiming into the chaos, I get overwhelmed. Thankfully, when you’re a teenager, everyone ignores you. You’re overlooked, underestimated. So, I guess I have that going for me. People, especially rich people, act as though you don’t even exist when you look like I do with my big blue eyes, long blonde hair, and baby face. Unless, of course, they think you’re prey, and they’re the big bad predator. That’s fine with me. It works out to my benefit. I think my favorite part is seeing the look in their eyes when they realize I’m not the weak girl I worked so hard to convince them I am. “P-please don’t,” I whimpered, cowering low. That position made it easier for me to grab the blade strapped to my thigh without being seen. It also had my victim letting his guard down. “I like it when they beg,” the buffoon beside my target cackled. I might have only been contracted to kill one man, but two men would die that night. “Such a sweet thing. How about you get on your knees for me, and I’ll take it easy on you,” my target sneered, and I held in my gag. I would rather choke on a gallon of broken glass. “O-okay,” I made myself stutter. I twisted until my weight is shifted just right. When the man that smells like burnt tuna leaned down, I smiled. “There are no second chances here,” I hissed before lunging. My blade struck his chest, piercing his heart in one swift move. Before his goon could react, I yanked my blade free and plunged it into his heart as well. The cuts were clean and precise. This is what I was trained for.