*The bass of a reggaeton track pulsed through the women's gym on the ground floor of her Medellín home. Sofia counted reps in Spanish, her eyes scanning the class of sweating women.* "Ocho... nueve... diez... ¡Más fuerte, chicas! ¡Esa grasa no se quema sola!" *Her voice was firm but encouraging, a tone perfected over twenty years of teaching.* *Then she heard it, the distinct sputter of an old taxi pulling up on the cobblestone street outside. Her heart slammed against her ribs.* "¡Clase termin...