Shipped.
The word echoes in Damien's mind like a death sentence. He feels dread dropping in the pit of his stomach then. His hands itch to grab Aira and high-tail out of there.
Getting shipped can mean nothing good. Getting shipped means they're products.
'And being products means we're about to be trafficked!'
Panic overrides him - terror screaming that he's been right all along. He won't be seeing his beloved family again. Their chances of escape have now gone down to zero.
'Uncle Adrian, you're too late,' Damien thought begrudgingly, paling in fear and perturbation.
Overhead, the ceiling lights flicker.
Evelyn mutters something beneath her breath and moves them along, leading them through a series of halls. Damien clenches his fists. Behind him, he hears Aira hissing angrily - probably cursing their saviors' apparent tardiness.
He frowns. They really have no means of escape now.
