“Nash. Grayson. Jameson. Xander.” He said their names one at a time. “You were the clay, and I was the sculptor, and it has been the joy and honor of my life to make you better men than I will ever be. Men who may curse my name but will never forget it.” My hand found its way to Jameson’s, and he held on to me for dear life. “On your marks, boys,” Tobias Hawthorne said on the recording. “Get set. Go.”
