He shook his head again, and this time the gesture carried finality.
"You are a disgrace, Lovi. Not just to me. To everything you were taught. To everything you could have been."
Master Bushman reached into his jacket and withdrew two more daggers.
The blades gleamed in the dim warehouse light as he held them for a moment, positioning them carefully in his grip, and then - without hesitation, without any change in his expression - he drove them both forward simultaneously into Lovi's thighs.
One blade buried itself in the right leg. The other in the left. Both penetrated deep enough that Lovi could feel them scraping against bone, and the fresh wave of pain that accompanied the strikes was so overwhelming that his body convulsed violently against the wall despite the nails holding his wrists in place.
He tried to scream but what emerged was barely a sound - more like a strangled gasp, his voice too exhausted and too damaged to produce anything louder.
