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.

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

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the glass piece in her hand and moved her

up and down in the carriage, and she struggled several

hands, which were tied behind her back, kept grinding the

really move all that much. She was so focused that she was soaked

to cut one from the strand, but unfortunately the rope did not

like she would need

choice but to lean on the wall

it took,

hastily cupped the glass piece in her hand and hid it, so that it could

that someone was approaching the car

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