The Bulgarian smuggler doesn't move, but the woman tries to cover her chest with her hands.
"Ce dracu—" the man starts, but Victor cuts him off.
"Shut the fuck up," Victor says, his voice smooth and unbothered as he moves forward. He grabs a blanket off a nearby chair and tosses it to the woman. "Ie?i."
She nods frantically, wrapping the blanket around herself as she stumbles toward the door. Her eyes are wide, glassy, unfocused. She doesn't look at any of us. She just runs down the hall and out into the night.
The smuggler's eyes dart between me and Victor, his bravado crumbling as he realizes what's happening.
"Who the fuck are you?" he demands, shifting forward to sit on the end of the couch.
I walk forward, closing the distance between us.
His eyes widen.
"Stai! Wait," he says. "Please what do you want. I have whores for you.”
I grab him by the throat with my left hand, my fingers digging into the soft flesh under his jaw, and slam him back against the couch. His head bounces off the cushion.
"Who—"
I hit him with the butt of my pistol.
The metal cracks against his jaw as I'm sure I shatter some of his teeth. Blood sprays across the couch and he screams.
He tries to curl up, to protect himself, but I smack his hands away.
"You talk when I tell you to talk," I say, my voice firm.
He nods, blood pouring from his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto his bare chest.
Victor moves around the room, looking over everything.
"We need information," Victor says. "Locations."
The man looks away, and I grab his fucking hair and yank it so hard he has no choice but to look at me.
"Where do you take the girls you steal?" I ask.
He sputters, choking on his own blood. "I... I don't?—"
I slam his head against the armrest.
"Where do you take the women?"
"Okay! Okay!" he says, his hands flailing uselessly. "I'll tell you!"
I let go, and he collapses back against the couch. He wipes his mouth and looks at the blood smeared across the back of his hand.
"Talk," I say.
He coughs, spitting some blood and a broken tooth onto the floor.
"We start in small towns."
"No. Valuable girls," I say, raising my hand to hit him. "High prices."
"There's... there's a chateau. In the Swiss Alps. That's where they take the high-end girls. The ones worth," he stops to swallow, "worth more than usual."