Enzo Stranger Things Novels & Stories

ENZO CLINTON! ​

he stares. I can't keep my eyes away from them, and thus, I stand. Enzo notices me and his face grows dark. "I don't think we have been introduced formerly. Enzo Antonov," Enzo says a lot of pride spreading through him. I open my mouth to speak but his brother, Riley beats me to it. "Zane Vincenzo. We know who you are. I am Riley by the way. We are the brothers you wouldn't want to cross paths with," Riley says.

I saw pity in her expression but then she was gone, and I was alone with Enzo. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms crossed. The man who joked with me and looked at me like family… that man was gone. This Enzo was a stranger. "Enzo, please." I tried to stand, but my legs were shaking. "Please, just let me explain." He stepped back, eyeing me with contempt. "Explain what?" His voice was hard. "Explain how you fed him information and helped orchestrate an attack that killed seventeen of our men?”

I don't want to raise any suspicions or draw attention to myself. "No problem," the man replies, his voice deep and raspy. "Are you okay?" "I'm fine, thank you," I say, my voice slightly trembling. I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself. Enzo is dead. This man is just a stranger. I need to let go of these foolish thoughts. But as I steal a glance at him, something in his mannerisms catches my attention. The way he holds himself, his aura of power and authority – it's eerily familiar. Could it be possible? Could this really be Enzo?

But, he still didn't. "Get what?" "Your username." Zoey sighed and even though she doesn't really like answering that anymore, her own mouth has its life on its own. "It was my sister. She liked that famous show from N*****x. Stranger Things? Does it ring a bell? No?" Dionysus made a meh face, silently telling Zoey that he doesn't know the show at all that made Zoey rolling her eyes upwards. "How about you? You like Sherlock Holmes, huh? The book, the movie or the series?"

If not for the wall at my back, my knees would have given out. The stranger froze. Hands shot up. Mouth still wet from me. Enzo did not speak again. Just grabbed the man by the collar—despite his size—and dragged him backward through the hallway toward the back exit. I scrambled to tug my jeans up. Zipped. Buttoned. Followed on shaky legs. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” I yelled. Enzo had the stranger on his knees now. Gun still trained. The man’s face was pale. Eyes wide.

Asa naman siy--- "What the hell?" Manghang tanong ko dahil naka-singit kami! Maganda pa lang gumawa nang eksena tapos nasa unahan na kayo. "Pasalamat ka sa 'kin magaling akong mag-panggap." Naka-ngising ani ko. Pero pinakita niya lang sa akin ang gitnang daliri niya. Nasaan ang manners nito? Baka naiwan sa baba. "Now we're just a stranger,"kanta ng vocalist. Hindi pa pala tapos ang kanta nila. Ang bagal naman.

“Finn is loyal, dedicated, and kind of hot.” “Kind of?” Enzo grinned, and it might be the first time he seemed fully at ease. Like he dismantled the walls he’s built so high willingly, and I’m getting the raw, uncut version of him. “He’s pretty much my Eddie Brock.” “I don’t remember Venom falling in love with Eddie Brock,” I snort. “Then you haven’t read the comic,” he grins, “Chemistry was off the charts from the beginning.” Enzo plucks a square of gauze from the cart, grabbing my hand, and positioning my fingers to press against it, “Why now?” my voice is barely above a whisper, and a moment of shock crosses Enzo’s features.

“Can we be friends? I don’t really have anyone I can talk to the way I can with you.” His words made me pause, then smile. “Of course,” I said. “Friends.” He grinned widely, with a slight bow of his head. “Good. I’ll take care of you then, Mrs Vitale.” We both laughed, and it felt light, until his laughter suddenly stopped. His eyes fixed on something behind me, and I noticed the way his face slowly lost its color. “What’s wrong?” I asked, turning to see what he was staring at. My breath caught in my throat. Enzo stood a few feet away, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black pants. The black turtleneck he wore only made him look sharper, colder… dangerous. His eyes were fixed on us, o

QUADE "Don't you just hate it when the parents fight?" Enzo mocked, eyes twinkling in amusement, "those two seriously need to fuck already. There's not enough holy water in the world to cleanse my eyes after watching them." Zen rolled his eyes. They were opposites in every way, looks and personality. It was something I barely noticed before but nowadays, strange things caught my attention. Like the way Enzo had dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a fucking pretty boy face with a mauled chest — thanks to me — and Zen with his dark eyes that were close to obsidian and his jet black hair. The brains and the brawn. It was obvious which was which.