Saving Kids With Burritos
I somehow became the "dream girl" of a cold, dangerous villain straight outta a novel.
Well—technically, it was my mini burritos that did the damage.
Hot, cheap, and hit like a hug.
The year his whole world crashed, Rory Roth showed up scrawny and wrecked, clutching three crumpled bucks.
"Can I get one mini burrito?"
I stood there with a spatula in hand, staring at the kid who'd one day become some criminal mastermind genius.
But right now? No threat, no swagger—just a shivering kid with wary eyes.
"I'm not tryna scam you. If it's not enough, I'll wash dishes, mop floors, help with customers—whatever. Once I make up the rest, c-could you make me a mini burrito then?"
That's when it hit me.
This so-called villain... was just a starving, beat-down kid.