Cause you asked for something along these lines. Have fun! (Don't blame me if this crushes your soul)

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"Donovan, calm down."

Donovan slammed his fellow agent against the wall, his fist bunching the man's shirt and pressing it against his throat.

"Don't tell me to calm down," Donovan shouted. "I just got back from a routine opt to find out that my wife has been taken by one of the biggest drug cartels!"

"We're going to find her."

Before Donovan could lay into the man, someone grabbed him from behind, hauling him off of Agent Andrews. When Donovan spun around to take on the new attacker, he found Mason staring him down.

"Get a hold of yourself," he snapped.

Around them employees were staring at Donovan, frozen in shock, files clutched in their hands, eyes wide. Donovan curled his fists, panic, rage, and fear were a torrent in his mind blinding the world around him. Mason gripped Donovan's arm and pulled him away from prying eyes, into Donovan and Carter's office.

Trying to rein in his emotions, Donovan sank to the couch resting his head in his hands. He was spiraling, he knew it. The shock of hearing Carter was taken was ebbing away and all that was left was a crushing fear he couldn't find his way out of. The one person who could bring him back to himself was gone.

The sound of opening and closing drawers made him look up. Mason seemed to be making a search of his desk. When what he was looking for didn't yield anything, he moved across the way to Carter's.

"What are you doing?" Donovan growled, hating the way he pawing through Carter's things.

"Trying to find the alcohol," Mason said.

"We don't have any."

Mason kicked a drawer closed and walked to the door.

"How do you not have any alcohol. Wait here."

Mason left and Donovan was trapped with himself. A chaos of the worse possible endings clouded his mind and a monster of anger was sinking its teeth into Donovan's heart, it's venom tainting his blood. Unable to stay still, he rose and began to pace, his fingers clawing his hair. When Mason returned with a bottle of whiskey and a glass, Donovan faced him.

"I need to know everything," he said.

Instead of answering, Mason poured Donovan a strong measure and handed it to him.

"Drink this first," he said.

Donovan downed the liquid in one gulp. It burned his throat but seemed to grab hold of his emotions and sooth them a bit. Seeing the tension diminish in Donovan's shoulders, Mason settled on the edge of the desk.

"As you know Carter has been undercover for the past two months with the cartel. Well, last night she was scheduled to meet with her handler, she didn't make the meet." Donovan's jaw clenched, fear worming its way back in. "We're assuming the worse, her cover has been blown and they have her."

"What are we doing to find her?" Donovan asked, keeping himself in control.

"Director Townsend is getting together tactical teams and plans to storm the cartel's bases. I'm doing whatever I can to trace Carter's last movements and see if that narrows down where she was taken and which base she's most likely to be in."

Donovan took a breath, his anger burning down to hot embers.

"All right," Donovan said. "Where is the Director?"

"In his office," Mason said.

When Donovan took a step towards the door, Mason jumped up and blocked his path.

"Hold on. Take another minute to gather yourself, you almost killed the messenger."

Donovan's first response was to punch Mason unconscious and step over him to get to the room. Realizing this, he nodded and backed away. Mason nodded.

"Good. I'm going to get back to work. We will find her, Donovan."

Donovan had no reply, they were going to find her, he knew that. What state she was in when they did...well, that he couldn't let himself think about. Mason left and Donovan ran another hand through his hair making it more disheveled. As he went to find Director Townsend, something pinged on his computer. He rounded the desk and sank into his chair. Waiting on the screen was a box with a single message.

"Donovan, what do you always tell me?"

A curser blinked in the space for an answer. A million responses raced through Donovan's mind.  It took only a second for him to settle on the right one. He typed in: "protect your left side."

The box disappeared and in its place was a video screen. It was taken from Carter's desk and she sat before it, smiling at him.

"Hey, Donovan," she said.

Donovan's heart constricted. Part of him wanted to raise his eyes and look across the way to her desk and see her as if she were sitting there right then to make the video. But he ignored the foolish impulse knowing what would be there.

"So," Carter said. "If you're getting this message now, it means I didn't make the meeting with my handler. My cover is most likely blown. If that is the case then there is something I need to tell you."

She took in a breath. Donovan balled his fists not wanting to hear a goodbye.

"I believe the cartel has a fifth safe house," she said.

Donovan released his breath.

"I don't have any proof that's why I haven't shared this with Director Townsend. It's just a gut feeling from watching them. I believe it's on the East of the city, in the warehouse district. But again I don't know for certain. I figured I would tell you though in case it does mean something."

She smiled at the screen and Donovan felt as if the warmth of it was somehow transferred to him.

"I love you, Donovan. And if I can't get myself out of this situation," she leaned in, the smile turning devilish. "I guess you'll have to come save me."

There was a challenge in her eye like she was daring him to defy gravity for her. Donovan stood, knowing he would do more than that, he would rip apart the entire world for her.

Director Townsend looked at Donovan as he entered his office.

"Sir," Donovan said, rushing in, his heart pounding in his chest, Carter's voice ringing in his ears.

Before Donovan could go further, Townsend raised his hand, a scowl cutting into his features.

"No," he said. "You are not going to be any part of this case. You already assaulted one of my agents and I can't have anyone who isn't clear-headed on this mission. I understand your need to find your wife, but if I bring you, your emotions would put lives in danger."

Donovan's anger blazed white hot. Townsend narrowed his eyes at him, a silent warning.

"Go home," he said. "We will let you know when we find her."

Knowing he would do something he would regret if he stayed, Donovan spun away.

"Agent Keller," Townsend said, halting him. "Leave your gun."

Turning back, Donovan unholstered his gun and set it on the Director's desk. When his icy gaze locked on his superior's, he found sympathy there.

"We will find her."

Donovan made no comment as he left. Though he wanted to tear out of the offices, he forced himself to remain calm through it all, stepping into his car as if he weren't furious inside. The day was edging towards evening as he pulled out of the parking structure. Through the drive, he mulled over his next plan of action, by the time he stopped the car outside of the apartment, he was in control and knew what he had to do.

The metal stairs rang out his approach. The second he knocked, the door was opened and Steve stared at him. At the look on Donovan's face, his brow creased in worry.

"They have Carter. I'm going to get her back. Will you help me?"

Steve didn't answer, instead, he walked to where Maggie was sitting on the couch, Danny on her lap. He kissed her, then kissed Danny's forehead. After a brief exchange, he grabbed his jacket and nodded to Donovan.

"Let me get my gun," he said.

Donovan turned away. "No need, I have more than enough."

************

The metal door let out a grinding sound as Donovan lifted it open. The storage unit was about the size of a large walk-in closest, but there was where the similarity ended. Instead of clothes and shoes, it was covered in racks of guns. On the table in the center were cases and boxes of ammunition. Steve gazed around the collection with an appreciative nod.

"Does the agency know about this?" he asked, as Donovan moved to the table and started opening lids.

"No, it's under a different name. This was in case something ever happened to Carter or me and we needed to protect ourselves without the support of the FBI."

Donovan grabbed a sniper rifle off the wall and tucked it into its cushioned case before pulling down a set of handguns. When he went to grab a box of ammunition, Steve placed a hand on his arm.

"Look, son," he said. "I'm as ready as you to end the life of every single person who had a hand in taking my daughter, but when we get her, she'll need you and you can't be there for her if you're in jail."

Donovan tightened his grip around the box, the packeting crumpling beneath his fingers.

"They don't deserve to live," he said.

"No, but you do."

Releasing his hold, Donovan nodded to his logic. Crouching down, he retrieved a container stacked with tranquilizer darts and set it on the table. He was about to unload the clip of real bullets when a beep sounded from a box on the wall. Cocking the gun, he raised it, edging to the opening.

"Motion sensor?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, one row over."

Steve took up the second handgun and loaded it, taking a position beside his son-in-law. The tap of footsteps drew closer and Donovan glanced at Steve, silently asking if they were ready for what was headed their way. In reply, Steve nodded his expression a mask of stone. Right before the treads reached the opening, they halted.

"I would prefer not to be shot," a deep voice said.

Donovan lowered his weapon and Steve did the same. From the shadows, James, Clint, and Brock walked forward. His brothers were all dressed in black and had the determined glint in their eyes of men ready to race into the pits of hell.

"We came as soon as we heard," James said, not waiting for Donovan's question.

"We knew you would be taken off the case," Clint said.

"And we knew you would be here," Brock finished. "We're here to help get your wife back."

Donovan slid his gun into his holster.

"Good," he said. "Take all you can carry."

The brothers branched out taking down whatever guns they could reach. Under five minutes they were closing the storage unit and walking off with enough firepower and surveillance equipment to weaponize a small army. Finding a place to lay low, the group planned. With the aid of Mason, they pinpointed the most likely place Carter would be held in the unknown base. Less than three hours since Donovan had gotten the news about Carter, he was on his way to get her back.

***********

The warehouse district had the appearance of a concrete building graveyard. The windows were dark and the wind barely stirred. Dressed from head toe in black, the group looked little more than silhouettes in the night. They moved as one creature diving into the depths of the mass of the buildings.

Donovan took the lead, guiding them through the complicated labyrinth. All his emotions had been compounded into one thought, save Carter. His heartbeat was steady, his mind sharp as he cataloged every detail of the world around him.

A row away from their target, the squad huddled together in the safety of a building's shadow.

"Brock, you'll be entering this building to give surveillance and lay down sniper fire," Donovan said. "As we discussed, James will take the East entrance, Clint West, Steve North and I'll take South." He made eye contact with each one of them, drawing strength from them. "Let's go get our girl."

They all nodded and split ways, melting into the night. As they got into position and disabled their entrances security measures, Brock's voice sounded in their ears.

"This is the place," he said. "I'm spotting numerous heat signatures on all three stories. The highest congregation is on the third floor, on the North side. No noticeable lights, I would suspect they're all equipped with night vision goggles."

At the bit of information, Donovan took out his powerful flashlight and held it near his gun.

"Roger that," he said. "I'm in position."

The statement was echoed by James, followed by Clint and Steve.

"We breach in five," Donovan said, resting one hand on the door handle. "Four. Three." He turned the knob. "Two. One."

Donovan opened the door and swung his gun up, ready for an attack. When there was none, he slid inside, edging the door shut behind him. The interior was nearly blinding in its blackness. Clicking on his flashlight, a section of the room burst into clarity. Long tables lined the area, clearly, it was a place where they dealt with their product. With one sweep of the light, Donovan found it empty. The building felt like a vacuum, sucking out all sound and light. If it weren't for the constant beat of his heart Donovan had the feeling that even his presence would be wiped out.

Banishing the notion, he wound his way through the maze of tables to the doorway. Beyond it was cavernous space with rooms splitting off from it. Edging along the wall, he made it to the first doorway. It was empty and so was the next one and the next. Each gapping wound of a room made his heart pound harder, the need to see Carter building with each second.

"One hostile down," James said, in his ear.

As Donovan made it to the stairs the statement was echoed by Steve, followed by an 'all clear' from Clint. Despite the efficiency of the group, worry was slowly creeping back into Donovan's mind. Gritting his teeth, he fought against it, needing all of his wits about him. He was just exiting onto the second landing when a shadow moved through the corridor. He fired and the figure dropped like a stone.

The thunk reverberated off walls. Knowing someone would come to investigate, Donovan hurried on. He had only managed to make it halfway down the hallway when a trio appeared, faces obscured by goggles. Donovan raised his flashlight and they all reacted, stumbling back and holding up their arms to block the blinding whiteness. In the moment of weakness, Donovan fired all three of them.

"Four hostiles down on the second floor. I'm guessing it was heard, I'm going to the third."

Before anyone could counter the decision, Donovan racing up another flight of stairs, his footsteps silent. At the entrance to the next level, he hit another group of hostiles. The light stunned them and the tranquilizer darts in their necks made them unconscious. Vaulting over the pile-up, Donovan hurried down the corridor, swinging the light back and forth, checking rooms as he went. The buzz of updates rang in his ears, but he barely heard it, the thought of Carter driving him onward.

As he burst through the final door, a round of shots rang around him, forcing him back. He took cover, crouching low. Taking a breath, he swung back into the room and fired at the spots one brief glance had given him of the room's occupants. Two bodies fell, but another shot at him, the bullets digging into the wall behind him. Donovan dove and rolled, coming up on one knee, his flashlight blinding the shooter. The man reared back and Donovan took him out.

Heart hammering, he rose and swiveled the light around. What it found made his breath freeze in his lungs and the light to stutter.

Strapped to a chair, unconscious was Carter.

"I found her," Donovan said.

Racing towards her, he skidded to a stop, dropping to his knees. He set the flashlight down where it was still aimed at her. With shaking hands, Donovan cupped her bent head and raised it. His heart shattered. Blood stained one cheek from a cut below her eye and the other was covered in bruises.

"I need an ambulance, a helicopter, anything now!" he shouted, pain scratching his voice.

He felt for a pulse and nearly collapsed with relief when he found one. The rest of her looked no better, her shirt was torn and cuts and bruises riddled her body.

"It's on its way," Brock said.

Donovan barely heard the words, his focus drowning in Carter.

"Carter," he whispered, brushing her hair back. "I'm here. It's going to be okay."

As if his voice were all she ever needed, Carter began to stir. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Don..."

A trickle of blood spilled over her lips with the attempt at speaking.

"Don't try to talk," he said, whipping out a knife and cutting her ties.

He was moving onto the ropes around her ankles when he heard footsteps. Spinning around, he leveled his gun at the door, anger searing through him.

"Woah!" James said, holding up his hands when he saw Donovan.

Donovan dropped his gun and turned back to Carter, sawing her bindings.

"We got him, Donny," James said.

When Donovan faced him, he found that Clint and Steve were dragging in a man in a tailored suit and wearing a sneer.

"This is the man who took her," Clint said. "We caught him as he was trying to run."

Donovan stood and made his way over to the man, staring down at him. The man didn't look at all intimidated.

"You can't hurt me," he said. "I know my rights."

Donovan held out a hand and James put a gun in it. From the weight of it, Donovan knew it was loaded with bullets.

"Yes, I can."

Instead of aiming for the man's head, Donovan fired on the man's knee. A scream was ripped from him and he dropped, only managing to stay upright from the hold Clint and Steve had on his arms.

"You...can't...do....this," the man seethed.

"You hurt my wife. You're going to pay." Donovan cracked the gun against the man's skull, the dull crunch offering only a little bit of satisfaction. Handing the gun back to James, Donovan returned to Carter. One of her eyes were open, the other swollen shut. Everything in Donovan wanted to pick her up and hold her against him, reassuring him that she was alive. But logic held him back, not knowing the extent of the damage down to her body. Instead, he settled for kneeling for her and holding her face in his hands.

"You...saved...me."

The words were barely audible and delivered with the last of her strength, her eye closing again. Donovan looked at her, knowing she was the most precious thing in his life.

"I will always save you," he whispered back.

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Beat it!
(*Pulls out a drum and starts beating away at it. Sees no one is joining and stops*)

Yeah, I should have known you would be too much of an emotional wreck to play. It's fine.

So...how ya feeling? I know it was a intense chapter but hey at least Carter is alive! So that's good.

One of you did ask for Carter being in a damsel-in-distress type situation and this is what I came up with! ☺️

So I want your opinion on something. I'm rewriting/editing A Secret Service and I realized besides Carter it's WAY too white. So I want to make it more diverse. Don't worry the characters will still be themselves.

Donovan is going to be half Greek, making him even hotter with tan skin (like Theo James). As for Link, well sadly he has to stay white cause America is still super racist and the chances that we will have a President that's not white sometime in the future is slim to none.

I was thinking of making Maggie something else, either black or Hispanic. What do you think? Do you think that there's something different that would fit her better?

Also let me know if you could picture Maddy as something different!

Vote, comment, follow.