Wrong marriage and sweet love (Joyce and Luther)

Chapter 272

The road was bumpy and the car kept rocking from side to side. Joyce felt as if she was being taken

into the mountains.

The sound of tires bursting over gravel, mixed with the whistling wind, echoed in the ears. The

container was pitch black, and she couldn't see a thing. She didn't know exactly where she was being

taken.

Her hands were tied behind her back, and her feet were tied. Luckily they didn't search her, and she

could feel that the pistol she carried on her belt was still there. Unfortunately, she couldn't move.

She moved around the container with difficulty, groping around with her hands tied behind her back,

looking for anything she could use.

Little by little, inch by inch, she moved along and did not miss any corner of the carriage.

"Hiss." Suddenly she was stung and instinctively retracted her hand. It felt as if she had cut her finger

somehow, and it felt sticky, like it was bleeding. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly searched for the thing that had just cut her finger, and she carefully

felt around for it.

Finally found it! The way she felt it, it should be a piece of glass.

She hurriedly hid the glass piece in her hand and moved her body to the corner.

The road was getting bumpier and bumpier; apparently they had got into the mountains where there

were no roads. Several shakes threw her up and down in the carriage, and she struggled several times

to get up, finally sitting close to the corner to keep herself from bumping around.

Meanwhile, her hands, which were tied behind her back, kept grinding the rope with the piece of glass.

Her hands, however, were tied very tightly, and she could not really move all that much. She was so

focused that she was soaked with sweat, her hair wet on her forehead and cheeks, and she kept

grinding the rope with the glass piece.

It took her great efforts to cut one from the strand, but unfortunately the rope did not loosen.

It looked like she would need to continue.

She gasped for breath, her arms were so sore they were numb. She had no choice but to lean on the

wall of the container and close her eyes to rest for a while before she continued.

She did not know how long it took, but the car seemed to stop.

She was startled and hastily cupped the glass piece in her hand and hid it, so that it could not be

discovered.

After another moment, it appeared that someone was approaching the car door.

Immediately after, the carriage door was opened abruptly, and the endless cold wind scrambled in. She

was covered in sweat already, and once the freezing cold wind blowed in, she felt frozen and began

shivering and shuddering.

They did not blindfold her, the cold moonlight came in and she clearly saw two men walk up and climb

into the carriage. They came forward and dragged her out, she could not speak and did not resist.

Then, the vehicle behind her started again and drove away.

The two, dragging Joyce along quite far away, walked for what seemed like a long time, so long that

her legs felt weak and sore, and she could hardly walk, before finally arriving at an abandoned house.

It was just dawn, and she could barely see the dense trees around her, as well as bamboo everywhere.

They seemed to be in the mountains, in front of a row of dilapidated bungalows and their now bare,

mottled, discolored walls.

The house had been unoccupied for a long time, weeds were overgrown and vines were roaming

around and crawling all over the roof like ghosts.

By the faint light, Joyce saw the faces of the two men who held her. They were probably over thirties,

with beards, stout and fierce faces. She felt terrible enough just when she saw their face.